Year 4: Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire
by Lady Dawson
Summary: As romance slowly blossoms between Gwyn and Harry, she is haunted by visions of a graveyard and terrified for Harry's wellbeing as the Triwizard Tournament comes to Hogwart. But with her visions, she also learns a shocking secret. . .
1. Musings and Dinner

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter One: Musing and Dinner

As the sun started rising in the east and turning the streets of Rosemary Grove from night to day, a teenage girl sat in her bedroom, her desk facing the window, the quill in her hand scribbling across the piece of parchment that she had in front of her as she consulted the book next to her, pausing briefly before she added another point to the paper.

The light began pouring into the bedroom, illuminating Gwyn Swann's blonde hair as her blue eyes flickered upward to meet the coming day. She gave a small yawn as she glanced across the room towards the clock.

It had been a long night, she thought tiredly. She'd had another nightmare and then, once she had woken up at about three in the morning, she had been unable to get back to sleep and decided that she might as well put the time to good use.

Usually, her nightmares weren't so frightening. Okay, usually they were, but she'd had the usual ones long enough that they didn't alarm her as much. Not last night, though . . .

Oh, it had started usual enough. Gwyn had seen her long dead mother Aurora Toren-Swann run into a street that was being attacked by a man in a skull mask that she now knew to be her mother's cousin Gawain. She watched as her mother duelled with her cousin, only to be engulfed by green light and leaving her daughter motherless.

Usually, when the green light faded and she saw her mother's dead body, Gwyn usually woke up. Not this time, though. No, this time, she had turned to find herself in a graveyard. There was something eerie about this graveyard, as though something inside her was trying to warn her about something. Gwyn turned around to see a deadly mark in the sky, illuminating the heavens with its green light. A skull and a snake.

Gwyn had woken up then, her heart beating in her chest and then she had fallen back against her pillows, trying to rid herself of the image. For some reason, she was scared to death of that mark in the sky and Gwyn knew all too well that when she had particularly strong feelings about things, especially when it came to her dreams, they usually were right on target.

Because Gwyn wasn't an ordinary teenage girl. Like her mother before her, Gwyn was a witch, a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Three years had passed since Gwyn had discovered the truth about her mother's heritage and the legacy that she had inherited. Three years since she had left her father's home forever and followed in her mother's footsteps to become a witch. And in those three years, she learned more about her mother than she had ever hoped or wanted to.

Before Gwyn had even been born, when her mother was still at Hogwarts, years before she had even met Gwyn's father, a dark wizard named Voldemort came to power and began recruiting witches and wizards for his regime. Aurora had come from a dark wizard family, so her family naturally was on board when he started hunting down those of no wizarding families, also known as Muggle-borns, like Gwyn's friend Hermione Granger.

Instead of joining up with her family, Aurora instead left and began fighting Voldemort with her friends. She was luckier than some of them. At least she survived Voldemort's reign, which had fallen when Gwyn was a year old, stopped by her own best friend Harry Potter. Somehow, Voldemort's curse rebounded onto its caster, leaving the year old boy unharmed, save for the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

But Aurora still would never see her daughter grow up into the woman that she was slowly becoming. When Gwyn was two years old, almost a year after Voldemort's fall, her mother was killed when one of his followers attacked Diagon Alley, leaving Gwyn to be raised by her father.

After losing his wife, William Swann had vowed that Gwyn would never become involved in her magical heritage, which was why until she was eleven years old, she never knew she was a witch. It was only when she received her letter inviting her to Hogwarts that the story came out. Gwyn learned the truth from her mother's friend Madeline Harris, who was now Gwyn's guardian. She had been acting as the housekeeper in her house before Gwyn left her father.

And Gwyn never regretted leaving. She felt closer to her mother now than she had in all those years in that lonely house. And she also had three of the most wonderful friends that anyone could ever ask for. Hermione Granger, her only female friend, who apart from giving Gwyn advice as only a woman could give to another woman, was the top of their year. Ron Weasley, who knew the most about the wizarding world, as he was the only one of them raised in it. And then there was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Gwyn's heart gave a leap as she thought about Harry, whom she now thought of as more than a friend.

During the past year, her feelings for Harry had grown past that of friends or even best friends. She began to realise that her feelings for him were growing to that of romance, but it took awhile for her to take a chance and act on those feelings.

It wasn't until the very last time that they had seen each other, right at the end of term, when they were saying goodbye to each other, that Gwyn had caught him by surprise and kissed him, right where everyone could see.

She hadn't exactly given him a chance to say anything or even recover before she had darted off to leave with Madeline. Gwyn wasn't sure what she wanted him to say or if he regretted the kiss, but she had felt him kiss her back when they had kissed.

And someone didn't kiss a girl back if they didn't have feelings for the other person, right? Kissing someone meant that they felt something! If it didn't, then people would go around kissing every person that they met instead of giving them a handshake or something.

A kiss was intimate, personal, it was—

"Oh!" Gwyn groaned, leaning her head back. Letting herself muse on things had led her to the thing that she had been brooding about all summer; what Harry had thought about their kiss. As she hadn't exactly given him the chance to talk to her about it, face-to-face, the only letters that he had sent her were brief and to the point. Gwyn couldn't decide if this meant that he was upset about the kiss or that he didn't know how to write about it.

Of course, given that this was Harry, it was probably the latter.

With a sigh, Gwyn replaced her quill and laid her homework aside to dry as she stood up, peering out as the streets started to grow brighter and brighter.

What was with that dream? she thought as she sat down on her bed, brushing her hair out absently. What did it mean?

The problem with Gwyn was that she wasn't a normal witch; she was a seer, gifted with the ability to see things before they actually happened. And Gwyn had much stronger Seeing powers than most of her kind, who usually developed their powers at the age of sixteen.

Gwyn had had hers since she was eleven.

She'd had dreams that became reality, she had sensed the basilisk roaming around the castle and attacking Muggle-borns, she had prevented Professor Lupin from leaving the Shrieking Shack a few months ago and thus preventing him from becoming a werewolf and turning Peter Pettigrew, the guy who had actually betrayed Harry's parents, into the Ministry of Magic. Sirius Black, the man who was thought to be the actual betrayer, was set free and now had custody of Harry. Gwyn had been thrilled for the both of them and was happy that something good had finally happened to her best friend, but Pettigrew still escaped.

After attacking some of the Ministry officials, he had fled, vanishing from sight, and Gwyn had no doubt that he was going back to his former master, who had been alone and friendless for thirteen years.

Suppressing a sigh, Gwyn pulled her hair into a ponytail and stood up, heading down to the kitchen to pour herself some cereal. Madeline was nowhere to be found, but that wasn't unusual lately. With the Quidditch World Cup coming up, she was needed in the office a lot, seeing as she was in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. She had already gotten tickets for themselves and for Harry, Sirius, the whole Weasley family, and Hermione.

Gwyn couldn't wait until then, because she was looking forward for something to get her mind off everything, plus it was going to be great to see her friends again and it would give her a chance to talk to Harry and maybe she could find out what he thought about the kiss . . .

"Argh!" Gwyn let out an annoyed sigh. Why was it that every thought that she had just led right to that kiss?

And what if he really was upset about it? What if he didn't see her the same way that she saw him? Then she might have thrown her friendship away for absolutely nothing!

"I've got to get out of this house," Gwyn decided. She had done nothing except brood on that kiss with Harry and it was not doing any good. Suppressing a sigh, she walked back upstairs to where her cat Tabby was still sleeping and fed him before she stowed her wand in her pocket. While she might not be allowed to do magic outside of school until she was seventeen, Gwyn didn't like going anywhere without it.

Stepping out of the house, Gwyn headed down the street, still quiet in the early hours, and didn't even bother to see where she was going. She just walked and pretty soon, she found herself walking upon a familiar sight.

The Swann manor had changed over the past year since Gwyn's father had gotten married. Christmas during her first year, Gwyn received a letter from her father, informing her that he had met a woman, Vanessa Taylor. Last year, he had married her and her son, Gwyn's stepbrother, Evan was pretty much the only person in the household that even so much as spared a kind word to Gwyn. And he was the only person around here who knew the truth about her, that she was a witch and why her father had disowned her.

Walking away from the manor, Gwyn sighed as she headed away from it, wondering not for the first time if she and her father would ever come to terms with everything. Would he ever forgive her for choosing her own path? And could she, in turn, ever forgive him for turning his back on her and throwing her out to the wolves?

Who knew? Even Gwyn couldn't see everything in the future. Only time would be able to tell.

Gwyn walked into the Rosemary Grove Park, climbing onto the swing and pushing herself back and forth, her musing catching up with her. She wished that she could just stop brooding about everything, but when she was alone with nothing but her own thoughts to occupy her time, that was one wish that was never going to come true.

"I've got to stop brooding on this," she grumbled, pushing the swing higher and higher.

"You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

It wasn't until that moment that Gwyn discovered that she was not alone in the park.

Jumping a mile, Gwyn spun around to see a grinning Evan Taylor standing behind her and she relaxed, rolling her eyes at him. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on people?" she demanded, but wasn't annoyed with him. It was good to see him.

"During the summer? Not likely," he snorted as he walked over to her, sitting down on the swing next to her. "Finally decided to get out of the house."

"The silence was kind of getting to me," Gwyn grumbled. She glanced at him. "How's Dad and your mum?"

Evan shrugged as he kicked a stone with the toe of his shoe. "They're all right, I guess. Mum keeps pressuring him to invite you over to dinner or something. She's still in the dark about why he exactly abandoned his daughter, so . . ." Gwyn couldn't even manage a smile. "Maybe you should go talk to her. I mean, maybe she can talk to your dad for you. Mum's good at that stuff."

"Trust me, this is one thing she won't be able to fix with a few magic words," Gwyn said dryly.

"Well, since you haven't been able to fix it with magic, I wouldn't expect her to," Evan joked.

That did it. Gwyn cracked a grin and laughed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Moron," she countered. "No, I'm fine. Dad's just stubborn and when he sets his mind to something, there's little that can change it." Gwyn brushed a stray hair out of her face and looked at him.

"You sure about that?" Evan asked her quirkily. Gwyn gave him a curious look. "Because what if I told you that your dad gave in to having you come over for dinner . . . say tonight?"

Gwyn stared. "I'd say that you're crazy."

"Well, then, I guess you'd better have me institutionalised, because William said yes. Took him almost all summer to say it, but he said yes." Gwyn just stared at him.

"I don't know, Evan, Dad and I aren't getting along, I don't even know your mum. I only met her once and that was at her and Dad's wedding, so I really don't know if—"

"Do you really have anything better to do with your summer?"

Gwyn sighed, making a face at him. "No," she admitted.

"Well, then suck it up, because you're coming," Evan told her, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Look, it's just dinner. You show up, make nice talk with your dad, say a few good words to Mum, you go home, end of story. Just because you're not normal and you and your dad aren't speaking doesn't mean that you can't have a nice dinner with him."

"You're kind of making it sound too easy," Gwyn pointed out. She sighed. "All right, I'll go, but I'm only going because 1, Madeline's not going to be home and I'm getting sick of leftovers and 2, because you asked me."

"Fair enough," Evan said, pushing himself off of the swing. "Mum said to just show up around seven-ish."

"See you at seven, then," Gwyn said, smiling as he gave her a wave and headed back in the direction of the manor. She sighed, glancing towards the sky and pushed the swing back and forth again. "Please, please don't let tonight be a disaster," she muttered.


	2. Family Dinner

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Two: Family Dinner

It was almost exactly seven o'clock when Gwyn walked up to the manor that had been her home for ten years, smoothing her skirt down as she straightened her mother's locket, making sure the clasp was in the back as she walked up the sidewalk and up the steps, knocking once on the door and taking a few steps back.

For a minute, she thought that nobody had heard her—or perhaps she had mistaken the day?—but then she heard the door unlock from beyond and Evan appeared, grinning at her.

"Dang, looks like I lost that bet with Mum," he said as he stepped aside to let her in. "I was starting to think that you weren't going to show up at all." He grinned. "She's actually going to be a big effort to make tonight extra special, so we're eating in the dining room."

"Really?" Gwyn could count the number of times that she had eaten in the dining room on one hand. Actually, she could do it with both of them behind her back. She had never eaten in the dining room that she could remember. "So, uh . . . where's Dad?"

"He'll be home shortly," Vanessa Swann said as she entered the foyer to meet her son and stepdaughter. "Well, Gwyn, look at you, you sure have grown up since we last saw you. You're growing into a beautiful young woman."

"Thank you," Gwyn said with a smile. "Thanks for having me over."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Mrs. Swann said, beaming at her. Her light brown hair hung freely around her and her grey eyes, so much like her son's, were thrilled to see her. "After all, you are family and family should stick together, even if they don't always get along."

Gwyn didn't know what to say to this, so she settled for just smiling and nodding. This was going to be a very long dinner, she thought. Since her stepmother knew next to nothing about the magical world, then Gwyn couldn't very well talk about her school or hardly anything about her life, especially the reason why her father had turned her away.

"Well, why don't you two go upstairs and watch some television or something? I'll call you when dinner's ready," Mrs. Swann said as she went back to the kitchen. "I'm not sure what could be keeping William . . ." Gwyn heard her mumble as she vanished.

"Come on," Evan said, jerking his head towards the stairs. "When was the last time that you were in your room, anyway?"

"Well, I haven't set foot in this house since I left, so over three years," Gwyn answered as she climbed up the familiar steps of her childhood home and pushed open the door to her former room.

It still looked the same as it did the last time that she had seen it. Her bed still had the same sheets on it, the desk still had some books laying out on it. There were even some of her old dolls that she had left lying about on the floor, forgotten about.

Gwyn smiled faintly as she walked over to one of the dolls, picking it up reminiscently. "Mum made me this doll," she said softly, stroking the blonde hair affectionately. "She made it for me for my second Christmas." Her smile vanished slowly. "Only she never made it to that Christmas. Dad just found it amongst her stuff and gave it to me so that I could have something from her. I can't believe I forgot about this," she whispered as she stood up, the doll still in her hands as she sat down on the bed.

"She made this?" Evan asked as he sat down on the bed next to her. "Pretty good sewing job."

Gwyn gave a small laugh as she realised something. "Well, I didn't know that she was a witch when I was a kid, so obviously she used some sort of magic." She smoothed the hair back into place. "I named her Aurora after my mum, but Dad got so upset when he heard me calling her that, so I changed it to Dawn."

Evan was quiet for a long minute. "You should take it with you. I mean, it's yours," he pointed out. "It belongs to you."

"Thanks." Gwyn smiled as she set the doll back on the bed. "But I think some part of my mum needs to stay here. She was a part of this place and some part of her still remains here. Not to disrespect your mum being the lady of the house," she added, causing Evan to laugh.

"Oh, no worries, I know what you mean," he said reassuringly. "It's not like I've thrown out any of my dad's old stuff."

"How is he?"

"Dad? He's fine. Last postcard I got from him said he was in Egypt and he said that he's going to be sending me some stuff from there," Evan answered.

"That's cool. My friend Ron went to Egypt last year and he said some of the pyramids were amazing," Gwyn said, grinning. "I think that was the only time Hermione was ever jealous of Ron."

Evan paused. "I almost hate to ask, but there are actually Egyptian wizards, aren't there? I mean, there's probably a whole other world like there is here, right?" Gwyn was having a hard time hiding her laugh as she grinned at him. "That's what I thought."

"You seriously didn't think that it was just in Britain, did you?" she asked, still laughing. "I mean, my school isn't the only wizarding school, there's hundreds of other ones. There's only about three really big ones, including Hogwarts, but I'm not sure where they are."

"Okay, so it was a dumb question," Evan complained, but judging from his expression, he wasn't annoyed at her laughter. "Are there others in Britain?"

"I think so, but Hogwarts is the main one," Gwyn answered, her laughter finally dying down. "Besides, I wouldn't want to go anywhere else. Hogwarts is home now."

Evan frowned. "I think you're the only person I know who describes their school as 'home'," he informed her. Gwyn grinned as she stood up, walking towards the door.

"Come on, I want to see how much this place has really changed," she said as she walked out into the hallway, her stepbrother right behind her, but she almost froze the moment that she stepped out.

Because standing right in front of her was William Swann.

Swallowing, Gwyn looked straight at her father. Even though she had seen him last year, at his wedding, they hadn't really exchanged much conversation.

"Evan, why don't you go downstairs and help out your mother," William said flatly, leaving no room for argument.

Her stepbrother opened his mouth to argue, but Gwyn shook her head at him, letting him know that it was fine and reluctantly, Evan removed himself from the tense atmosphere, walking down the steps to go find his mother, leaving Gwyn with her father.

After a long moment of silence, Gwyn finally forced herself to speak. "Good to see you, Dad," she said quietly. Even though her words were polite and her tone calm, it caused her father's eyes—so much like her own but still much angrier than hers—to narrow.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, young lady," he said tensely. "I don't to hear one word about your school or what you're learning there or anything about your kind, do you hear? If I get one hint that so much as the word 'magic' has passed from your lips, you will never again set foot in this house."

Giving a small scoff, Gwyn straightened her shoulders to make herself stand taller than she really was. "Dad, I am only here because Evan asked me to," she said quietly. "I did not ask to impose myself on you, I did not ask your wife to invite me over here. All I am doing is showing up here and going to have a nice dinner with your family and exchange polite conversation and then I'm going back home."

William's eyes studied her, searching for any falsehood in her words. "Good," he said finally, satisfied. "Because if you didn't, then you were going to have to deal with the consequences."

"The only consequences I would have to deal with is from the Ministry," Gwyn shot back. "You can't do anything to me anymore, Dad, you don't even have custody of me. Madeline does," she said.

Father and daughter stood together for a long moment before she cleared her throat, trying to calm herself. "Now," she said softly, "I think that we have kept them waiting long enough. We should probably go join them." She paused, considering something. "Oh, just so I know, what lie am I going to be telling her about the reason why I left?"

William's lips thinned. "Neither one of them needs to know anything," he said flatly. "You're not a part of this family, Guinevere, and you never will be."

Gwyn felt as though he had struck her, but maintained her calm. "I'm sorry you feel like that, Dad," she whispered. "And by the way, what makes you think that your stepson doesn't already know?"

Her father's head shot up to look at her, but Gwyn had already headed towards the stairs, descending them with her head high, as though she had been a queen in another life.

--

If anything, the tense atmosphere only amplified as they sat down to dinner, but Gwyn managed to keep her tone polite and her smile pleasant throughout the meal. Her father mostly just grunted when he was spoken to, his gaze fixed on Gwyn as though expecting her to whip out her wand and start performing magic for the entire neighbourhood to see.

Mrs. Swann tried desperately to start a conversation between father and daughter but after the sixth try, she finally gave up, looking rueful as she began setting out the dessert.

Evan, determined as ever, just chatted away, talking about everything and anything to keep the conversation going, to which Gwyn was extremely grateful.

Gwyn stayed as long as she could without seeming rude, but it started to get late and though she had no doubt that she would beat Madeline home, she should start heading home. Mrs. Swann hugged her as she was leaving and thanked her for coming.

"It's no problem, thanks for having me," Gwyn said with a smile at her. Her father still had his vigilant eye on her as she pulled away. "See you later, Dad," she said with a nod to him.

"I'll walk you home," Evan said as he walked towards her. "Pretty girls shouldn't walk alone after dark."

"Oh, too bad I don't have a big, strong stepbrother to do that for me," Gwyn teased. Mrs. Swann gave a smile at the two stepsiblings antics as Gwyn headed out the door with Evan close behind.

The moment that they were on the street, Evan let out a low breath. "Wow, I am so sorry, I never imagined that it was going to be that tense. William really is stubborn, isn't he?"

"It was more the fact that his witch daughter was in the house with his completely normal family," Gwyn said, suppressing a sigh. "Don't worry about it. Dad's right, I'm not a part of your guys' lives and I live in a completely different world than you."

"True," Evan acknowledged. "But half of you is part of this one." Gwyn looked at him. "He's your dad. Blood never lies, right?"

"Sometimes, blood isn't thicker than water," Gwyn replied. "If Dad and I ever mend fences, it's going to be a long time in coming. Maybe when the world is a different place."

"Or maybe you're just as stubborn as he is," Evan pointed out.

Gwyn stared at him. "Okay, remind me never to do anything for you ever again," she told him. Evan chuckled as they finally reached her house and she climbed up the steps, pushing the key into the lock and clicking it open. "Thanks for walking me home."

"Well, that's what family does, right? Besides, I figured this was the only way to make sure something made it home." Evan pulled out her doll out of his pocket and handed it over to her. Gwyn stared down at it, taking it into her hands gently and looked at him.

"Evan . . ."

"I know what you said and I get that, but your mum's always going to be the first lady of the house. She made that for you and that's where I think it's supposed to be."

Gwyn smiled as she turned her gaze back down to the doll. He was right; her mother _did_ make this for her. It wasn't like the locket or her mother's diary. This was actually something that her mother had made specifically for her. And she didn't have many things like that.

Stepping down, Gwyn wrapped her arms around her stepbrother. "Thanks, Evan," she told him. He hugged her back. "Now get home. I'm sure your mom will be worried if you don't get back soon."

Evan grinned. "See you," he said as he headed back down the street and disappeared from sight.

Shaking her head, Gwyn walked back up the steps and headed into the house, climbing up the stairs and into her bedroom. She laid the doll onto her bed, she smiled, looking to the picture of her and her mother she had on her nightstand.

"Thanks, Mum," she whispered into the night.

--

AN: Guys, thank you so much for the reviews! I think that's the most reviews I've ever gotten on one chapter, especially on the first chapter. Thank you, thank you, thank you! And don't worry, there will be a Harry/Gwyn scene in the next chapter, so let's do five or six reviews and I will update tonight, all right? Thanks!

Lady Dawson


	3. Always His Girl

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Three: Always His Girl

Gwyn woke up the next morning to the sound of Madeline Apparating into the kitchen. They had the Floo Network set up in the fireplace, but unless she was taking Gwyn someplace, Madeline usually just Apparated, since the blonde witch was underage, unable to Apparate for another three years.

Glancing at the clock, Gwyn frowned as she noticed that it was still pretty early and slid out of bed, dressing quickly, brushing her hair out hastily and heading downstairs to find her guardian looking exhausted and holding a cup of tea in her hands.

"Did you just get home?" she asked slowly, staring at Madeline's appearance. The older witch gave her a rueful smile and nodded. "Jeez, Madeline, the next time that they have the World Cup here, maybe you should put in for some vacation."

"Oh, dearest, I don't mind one bit," Madeline laughed. "I don't even remember the last time we hosted the World Cup and it's always entertaining whenever we get a whole bunch of wizards from different countries together. They're always showing off for one another."

"Sounds fun," Gwyn said doubtfully, causing Madeline to laugh again. "Seriously, you should go upstairs and get some rest; you look like you're about to pass out. As soon as the Cup's over, maybe you should sleep for like a month or something."

Madeline smiled faintly. "Not likely, we've got something to prepare for right after the Cup," she answered dryly. Gwyn cocked her head, wondering, but Madeline only sighed. "Goes to show just how tired I am, you're not supposed to know about that just yet."

"Know about what?"

Madeline smiled mischievously. "You'll find out soon enough," she answered slyly.

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Fine, but you should tell your boss that you need to get some sleep if you're going to be pulling these all-nighters a lot."

"Well, that's sort of the problem, one of the employees has gone missing," Madeline answered. Gwyn glanced up sharply. "Bertha Jenkins went on vacation and hasn't been heard from since. I'm worried about her," she mused. "That girl certainly has changed since I knew her at Hogwarts . . ."

"What do you mean?" Gwyn asked slowly.

"Used to be, she didn't forget a thing," Madeline answered quietly, sipping her tea again. "Now she can barely even remember where her own house is." She sighed. "Well, I suppose some people change, but she was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong and that's what worries me."

"Maybe she'll turn up," Gwyn offered.

Madeline sighed. "Maybe. Here's hoping, anyway." She drained the last of her tea and stood up. "Now, I'm going to be and you, young lady, are going to do something besides hanging around this house all day and brooding about Harry."

"I haven't!" Gwyn insisted. "All day," she added lamely when Madeline shot her a knowing look.

"Mm-hmm." Madeline only smiled faintly as she drained the last of the tea and placed it in the sink. "Well, these are orders from your guardian, get out of the house and have some fun. And you're supposed to do what I tell you. Go talk to some of your old friends. I'm sure Isabelle Cleveland has gotten over that hair dying incident by now."

Gwyn snorted; her first and only friend Isabelle had been the recipient of magic when she was ten years old, before she had known that she was a witch and her mother had pretty much said that she wasn't allowed to see Isabelle anymore. Given her attitude the past two summers, Gwyn decided that Mrs. Cleveland had worked her influence on her daughter.

"Yeah, I've seen her since school ended and it's safe to say that she isn't interested in hanging around," Gwyn told her. "I'll get out of the house, I promise," she sighed.

"Good." Madeline seemed satisfied as she got to her feet, heading up the stairs and a moment later, Gwyn heard her door close.

Suppressing a sigh, Gwyn silently ate some cereal before walking back upstairs. Her cat Tabby was still sleeping as she sat down on her bed, stroking the cat gently. He gave a soft yawn, turning on his stomach to be rubbed. Gwyn chuckled and obeyed, looking out the window, her thoughts drifting once again to a certain dark-haired wizard who was undoubtedly looking out at the same blue sky.

--

Pushing the lid down on her trunk, Gwyn eased Tabby into his cage and Madeline came looking around the corner. "All packed?" she asked, giving her charge a smile.

"Yeah, but I still think that the only reason why I'm going is because you and Sirius are conspiring to get Harry and me to talk," Gwyn told her. Yesterday, Madeline had told her that she was going to take her over to Harry and Sirius' place, since she was gone so much and she really needed to have some kind of adult supervision.

Gwyn was still having a hard time believing that she wasn't just saying that just to get her to stop brooding around the house. Of course, even Gwyn admitted that that was what she'd been doing all summer.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Madeline said mischievously, smiling broadly. Gwyn rolled her eyes as she placed the last of her things in her trunk and followed her guardian downstairs.

While she was actually thrilled to go back to the wizarding world and spend some time with Harry, she was also scared to death about seeing him again. After all, the last time she had seen him, she had kissed him and she didn't want to hear him reject her or worse throw away her friendship. His friendship meant too much to her.

"Ready?" Madeline was looking at her and Gwyn nodded, unable to speak as she moved forward with her things. Madeline was going to follow her with the trunk, so she walked into the fireplace, taking the Floo Powder that Madeline offered her.

"Padfoot Place!" she said clearly and the emerald fire blazed as it swept her away, fireplaces blurring past her as she was flung through the Floo Network until at last she was flung out onto the floor of Harry and Sirius's new home, coughing up ash and groaning slightly.

"I hate Floo Powder," she grumbled, pushing herself to her feet.

"You might want to get out of the way," an amused Sirius Black suggested as he helped her to the feet. "Since I assume Madeline's going to be coming through momentarily." Gwyn quickly obeyed, snatching Tabby's cage and letting him out. The cat shot off like a rocket, racing as far away from the fireplace as he could get.

"Great, I'm going to have a time catching him later," Gwyn grumbled as Madeline came through, along with her trunk. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Sirius."

"No problem," Sirius said, grinning. "Like I would ever turn you away."

Gwyn smiled; apart from being Harry's godfather, Sirius had also, once upon a time, been the love of her mother's life. They had split up years ago, before Gwyn was born, but Sirius was still very much in love with Aurora, from the look on his face every time she was mentioned.

"Besides, I think Harry's going to be happy to see you," Sirius added. "And maybe a little bit surprised, too."

Gwyn stared. "Wait a minute, doesn't he know that I'm coming?" she asked slowly. Sirius and Madeline exchanged a look and Gwyn shook her head at the two of them, disbelieving. "Conspirators, the both of you. This is nothing but a conspiracy."

"Yes, but it got you away from brooding around the house," Madeline agreed, hugging her charge quickly. "I'll check on you ever so often, dearest. And be good and don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

"You realise that I'm more mature than either of the boys in this house?" Gwyn said jokingly. Sirius made a face at her and she shrugged, grinning as Madeline chuckled.

"True enough, but still . . . be careful this year," Madeline instructed her. "Try not to get into any trouble this year. I realise that it's a tad pointless, because you seem to get into trouble every year, but please, spare this lady the heart attack that is most definitely going to come."

"I'll try, Madeline, but it's not that I go looking for trouble," Gwyn pointed out dryly. Madeline smiled as she hugged her again.

"Goodbye, Sirius, take care of her?"

"Would I not?" Sirius countered. Madeline smiled as she Disapparated, leaving Gwyn and Sirius standing in the foyer. "Come on, I'll take you up to the guest room."

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Gwyn smiled as Sirius gave her a knowing look. "Never mind, I know. The Quidditch pad."

After Sirius showed her up to her room, Gwyn took her time putting away her things—actually, she was mostly just delaying so that she could put off her talk with her best friend—until finally, she grudgingly admitted that there wasn't any left that she could do and headed back through the house and outside to the Quidditch pad out back.

A small smile crossed her face as she saw the tiny zoom that was Harry Potter swerving in every direction and for a moment, she just stood there and watching him, her heart beating with anticipation and even though it wasn't a particularly cool day, she was shivering.

"Cool it, Gwyn," she muttered to herself, half-annoyed. "Just calm down. What could possibly go wrong? This is Harry, remember? You've been best friends with him since first year and you've been able to talk to him about anything. So just calm down and go talk to him."

Still, she couldn't force her feet to move and so she was left standing there like an idiot as Harry slowly came down and touched the ground with a perfect landing, with the same style and grace that he had possessed since their first-year. He still hadn't noticed her standing there, so she, with enormous effort, forced her legs to move.

But evidentially, he heard her moving, because he spun around to look at Gwyn, his green eyes widening as he saw her standing there.

"Gwyn?"

She gave him a nervous smile. "Hi, Harry," she said, shifting under his stare. "How have you been?"

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her as though he had never seen her before, then shook his head to clear it. "Uh . . . yeah, it's . . . I'm . . . I'm good," he said awkwardly. She nodded, looking down at her hands, inspecting her nails carefully. "How's your summer been?"

"Oh, the usual," Gwyn said, looking back at him. "Dad's been a jerk, my stepmother's still completely in the dark about everything and anything regarding me, Evan's trying to mend things with my dad and me and failing miserably . . ."

Harry nodded more vigorously than usual. "Right. That's . . . that's good," he said.

Gwyn looked at him, blue and green eyes clashing, and she looked down at her hands again. "So I'm guessing that Sirius didn't tell you that I was coming to stay with you guys," she said, even though she already knew this.

"Sounds like him."

"Yeah," Gwyn laughed. "Madeline's working the World Cup stuff and she's not there a lot and apparently, even at fourteen, I can't take care of myself and need "adult supervision," so I'm gonna be spending the rest of the summer here." Glancing back up to her best friend, Gwyn saw that his expression was still awkward and nervous and flummoxed.

"Harry, uh . . ." She knew that she had to be the one to bring this up. Certainly, he was never going to do it. "We . . . we really need to talk about . . . about what happened last time we saw each other."

"Yeah, uh . . . that was . . ." He cleared his throat and looked down. "Well, that was different. I, uh . . . I wasn't expecting that."

"I know," Gwyn agreed. "I mean, I've . . . last year, I was pretty much trying to sort out my feelings for you and . . . and I know that I probably shouldn't have just sprung that on you without any warning, but I just . . . I just want you to know, I don't expect anything." She noticed the surprised look that Harry gave her, but ignored it. "I mean, obviously, you don't feel the same way and you know, that's okay . . . I mean, sometimes that happens, right? People just don't feel the same way about each other. But I just want you to know, that it doesn't have to change anything. I mean, we can just go on being friends and . . ." Gwyn took a deep breath. "And we can still be friends, right?"

Harry blinked at her long speech. "Well, yeah, of course, but—"

"Great," Gwyn said brightly, forcing a smile on her face even though her heart was breaking. She should've known that he didn't feel the same way. "That's good. I mean, we can just be friends and . . . forget that that ever happened." She couldn't force herself to look into his green eyes, which were beyond confused.

"Gwyn—"

"Well, I guess I'd better go help Sirius or something. You should get back to work on Quidditch. I mean, after you guys won the Quidditch Cup, people are going to be expecting you to do the same thing this year. And Wood will never let you hear the end of it if you guys lose it the year that he leaves." She smiled at him. "I'll see you later, at dinner, I guess."

She moved away, wanting to put as much distance between them as she could before she started crying and the last thing that she wanted was for him to see her tears.

"Right," Harry said as she walked away. "I'll—I'll see you later." She gave him a small smile as she started walking back to the house, feeling the tears coming faster than she wanted.

"Gwyn!"

_Oh, jeez, Harry, don't,_ she thought despairingly, hearing him running up to her. She didn't know how much longer she was going to be able to hold her tears back or keep herself from collapsing.

Feeling him grab her arm, Gwyn looked back at him, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Harry, what—" she began when he suddenly kissed her.

For a moment, Gwyn didn't know what to think or do, but then, she let herself deepen the kiss, getting lost in it until there was nothing left but the passion and love that she had kept inside her for close to a year.

The kiss lengthened and deepened as his arms wrapped around her and hers went around his neck until they both broke apart, breathless, and Gwyn stared up at her best friend.

"Harry?" she whispered disbelievingly. "What—"

"I don't want to forget," he said firmly. She stared at him. "Ever. I don't want to forget what happened." A small, disbelieving smile crossed her face and she couldn't help but stare at him, hardly able to believe what he was saying or what she was hearing. "Gwyn, that day at the station, when you kissed me, that was the best day of my life."

Tears flooded into her eyes again, but this time, they were born of happiness, not sadness. "Do you really mean that?"

"Do you know me at all? You know that I don't usually say stuff unless I mean it," Harry pointed out. She gave a small laugh as she buried her head against his shoulder, still laughing. "Gwyn?"

"Yeah?" She looked up at him and saw his nervous expression again.

"Will . . . will you be my girl?"

Gwyn couldn't stop the happiness that spread through her at his words and she beamed up at him, unable to stop the rush of emotions that were flooding through her. "No," she told him, causing him to blink in surprise. "I've always been your girl. I always will be your girl."

He actually grinned at that and he swept her up into his arms, kissing her again, but at that same moment, the door opened and Sirius appeared.

"Hey, you two had better—" He stopped upon seeing Gwyn and Harry, who broke apart the moment that he had appeared. "Oh. Never mind."

"You did that on purpose," Gwyn accused.

"Never," Sirius denied, but there was still that mischievous look in his eye, plus the fact that he was hiding something behind his back as he vanished back into the house.

Harry and Gwyn looked at each other and burst out laughing, still holding onto one another as he swept her up into another searing kiss.

And this time, no one interrupted.


	4. Dreams and Visions

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Four: Dreams and Visions

Gwyn smiled as she felt someone tickling her nose as she kept her eyes fixed on her History of Magic homework, which she was currently revising. Since it was one of her two worst subjects, she didn't think that it was going to hurt to have an once-over, to make sure that she had gotten all of the facts correct. Not that Professor Binns was really going to mind; being a ghost teacher, she didn't think that he was going to notice if she suddenly started talking about the weather.

"Harry, stop it," she said, unable to stop from laughing as she turned around to look at her boyfriend, whose green eyes were amused. "I have to finish working on this."

"You've been working on that essay since you got here, take a break," he said as he bent down to kiss her. Gwyn couldn't help but obey his command as she returned it, dropping her quill so that she could kiss him properly. "Besides, there is only a certain amount of times that you can look over an essay until it's perfect. Just ask Hermione."

"Yeah, and she would say that you can always go back and make it better," Gwyn pointed out. "Besides, we're leaving to go to the World Cup tomorrow and there's not going to be any time to work on it anymore."

"Gwyn, it's perfect and it's going to continue to be perfect," Harry told her firmly. "Now quit worrying and come have some fun."

Suppressing a grin, Gwyn rolled her eyes at him. "So what did you have in mind?" she asked with a grin. She knew that she didn't need to ask; not even ten minutes later, they were already on the Quidditch pad and already up in the air. Gwyn picked up the Quaffle while Harry, instead of the Seeker position, which was his position on the Gryffindor team, played Keeper as she was Chaser.

Keeping the ball tucked under her arm, Gwyn flew towards Harry and hurled the ball into the goalpost, surprising both of them. Gwyn had hardly ever played with Harry and the Weasleys the past two summers and she only rode her broom a few times last year.

Taking the ball as Harry tossed it back to her, Gwyn managed to get another five points off of him without even breaking a sweat, leaving them both breathless as they both flew to the ground.

"That was fantastic!" Harry said as they both climbed off of their brooms. "Where did you learn how to play like that?"

"I was kind of playing on and off whenever nobody was using the Quidditch field," Gwyn explained as she brushed her hair out of her face. "Not often, but enough to get good at it." She glanced back at the posts, then at Harry again. "Guess it made a difference, huh?"

"Are you kidding? I'm starting to think that we should kick one of the girls off the team and replace them with you."

"You're biased now," Gwyn reminded him with a laugh. "That's what you're supposed to say, otherwise you get a very annoyed girlfriend." Harry chuckled. "Speaking of which, have you told Ron or Hermione about this?"

"No. You?"

"No, but I'm thinking that we should get a camera, so we can capture Ron's expression for all eternity," Gwyn said with a smile. Harry gave her a reprimanding look. "What? Com on, just picture the expression, it's pretty funny."

The sides of his mouth were twitching, suggesting that he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Well, we're going to be seeing them tomorrow. And no camera," he added, but he was grinning. "He's gets enough from Fred and George as it is."

"No fun," Gwyn complained as they heard Sirius yelling at them from the house. She glanced down at her watch. "It can't be time for dinner already; it's only five o'clock."

Harry shrugged as they headed up to the house, where, sure enough, the table was already being set out for dinner and a steaming meal was already on the table.

"We're eating early tonight because we're going to have to get to bed early," Sirius explained. "We'll have to get up at the crack of dawn to get to the World Cup tomorrow."

"It looks delicious, Sirius," Gwyn complimented as they sat down to eat.

The talk soon turned to the World Cup and they were chattering soon about which teams were going to be in the tournament tomorrow and which ones they were going to be rooting for as they dug through the food. Gwyn couldn't remember the last time that she'd had such a good time during the summer.

Pretty soon, they were all full and Gwyn and Harry volunteered to do the dishes, wiping them down and putting them away.

"Has Madeline said anything about that witch that's gone missing, Gwyn?" Sirius asked when they came out from the kitchen, about to go upstairs for a quick game of wizard chess before they headed to bed. "The one from her department?"

"Bertha Jenkins?" Gwyn asked, remembering. Sirius nodded. "Yeah, she mentioned her, but I don't know if anybody's gone looking for her or not. She just said that she hadn't shown up where she was supposed to be yet."

"Hmm." Sirius looked worried by this, but didn't say anything more, just shooed them away.

"What was that about?" Harry asked her.

"I don't know," Gwyn admitted. "Madeline didn't really say anything to me about it, just that she knew her from school, was a couple of years older than she was."

Harry was quiet for a minute. "Gwyn, you haven't been having visions lately, have you?" he asked her suddenly. Her hand stilled as she reached for her chess set and her head turned to him sharply. "Have you?" he asked again when she didn't answer immediately.

"Well . . . I don't know, could be a vision or just a bad dream," Gwyn admitted. "I just have this reoccurring dream about a cemetery and this weird mark in the sky. Course, it could've just been something that I ate."

"With you? It's never something that you ate," Harry pointed out as he sat down on the bed. Gwyn looked at him, suddenly noticing that he looked pretty anxious.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. "And don't say that it's nothing, Harry. Please, I know you."

Harry gave a small smile. "There's something I haven't told you, because I didn't want to worry you," he said and she curled up against the bed to listen to him. "The day before you came here, I had a dream about Voldemort and woke up with my scar hurting."

Gwyn looked at him in alarm. She knew perfectly well what his scar meant. It only hurt whenever Voldemort was around and the last time that it had hurt was when he had been at Hogwarts, possessing Professor Quirrell.

"You don't think that he's—"

"No, I'm pretty sure that he wasn't anywhere around here," Harry answered immediately. "But Sirius seemed worried when I told him about it and . . ."

"What was the dream about?"

"Well, I was in this house and Voldemort was there—or at least, I heard him, his voice. Wormtail was there too. I can't remember a lot of it now, but they were plotting to kill someone."

Gwyn only needed to look at him once to know exactly who it was that they were planning to kill. She shivered slightly and stood up to join him on the bed. "That's why you were asking about the visions?"

Harry shrugged. "I just figured that you might have seen something if anybody was in any immediate danger."

She hoped that he was right. Gwyn really wanted to believe that if the people she loved were in danger, then she would have seen something. But the Sight was not a remote control; she couldn't use it when it was convenient for her. It chose the visions that it wanted her to see, so that didn't necessarily mean that nobody was in any danger.

Conveying this much to Harry, Gwyn said, "But you know, maybe it was just a false alarm."

"Yeah, but with everything that happened with Wormtail . . ." he reminded her.

Gwyn saw his point; she did, but there was no sense in getting worked up about it when there wasn't really anything that they could do about it. "Well, you said that you told Sirius, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Well, then you've done everything that you can," Gwyn insisted. "Sirius probably told Dumbledore and if there's anyone who can help with stuff like this, it's Dumbledore." She said this part confidentially, as their headmaster was the only wizard that Voldemort ever feared, or so it was said.

Harry released a sigh. "Gwyn, I wish I was as sure as you."

"Cheer up," Gwyn said reassuringly. "We're going to the Quidditch World Cup tomorrow and how many times are we going to have a chance to see that? Stop worrying about it. If something's going to come, then let it come. We'll deal with it when it happens."

He actually smiled at that, grinning at her. "You're really . . ."

"Aren't I?" Gwyn said, laughing. "Well, we should both get to bed. Dawn's gonna come quicker than you think." She stood up, kissing him tenderly.

He smiled as he pulled away. "I think that our friendship has suddenly become much more enjoyable."

Gwyn punched him playful, amused by him actually talking like a normal teenage boy. "Good night," she said, shaking her head as she left his room and returned to her own.

Walking over to her trunk, Gwyn pulled out a thick, leather-bound journal, the diary that she had been keeping for close to three years now. Flipping it open, Gwyn dipped her quill into the ink as she began to write these newest events in the diary.

_Dear Diary, _

_I know now that these dreams aren't just dreams, but actually premonitions. Harry's been having ones of Voldemort and Wormtail and I'm beginning to think that these are actually omens that something horrible is about to happen. _

_And what's worse, I have the most peculiar feeling that something is going to go wrong at the World Cup . . . _

_Sometimes, I hate being a seer. I mean, the being able to save my friends part, that's not so bad, but when something goes wrong, I feel like it's my fault that I couldn't stop it. Or because I could decipher the meanings of my dreams in time. I wish I could talk to my mum, ask her if she ever felt like this or even just talk to her. _

_Sirius once told me that the ones we love never truly leave us and that we can always find them in our hearts. But is it normal to miss someone when you have no real memories of them? I can barely even remember Mum. All I remember is the smell of roses and the feel of her hands when she tucked me in. _

Gwyn glanced up as she heard Sirius coming down the hall and realised that it was getting pretty late. Setting aside her quill, Gwyn closed her diary and returned it to its proper place, turning out the light as she climbed into bed.

Her last thought was that of the mysterious mark that she had seen in her dreams and her mother disappearing in a flash of green light.


	5. Heading to the World Cup

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Five: Heading to the World Cup

With a soft groan, Gwyn felt someone shaking her awake, saying her name over and over again. She responded by burying her head further into the pillow, trying to block out the person's voice.

"Guinevere Swann, if you don't get up this instant, I'm going to put a Freezing Charm on your blankets!" she heard Sirius say in what she supposed was a poor imitation of her mother. Gwyn groaned and pushed herself up, giving him a deathly look.

"You wouldn't dare," she responded. "You know that I'd pay you back and it's probably going to hurt when I do." Sirius made a face, then shook his head dryly.

"It's your mouth that opens and your voice that is speaking, but I hear your mother talking," he commented. "Come on, kiddo, get your rear in gear. We've got to meet the Weasleys at the Portkey in less than an hour, so get a move on."

Still groaning, Gwyn reluctantly climbed out of bed and Sirius left to go back downstairs. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she got dressed and headed downstairs to the dining room, quickly spooning herself some porridge before they had to leave. Harry was already down there, but it was too early to even be awake, let alone talking.

Within ten minutes, they were up and heading out of the house, locking up as they left. Gwyn hoisted her bag higher onto her shoulder as they followed Sirius through the quiet and dead streets before they started heading up Stoatshead Hill. It felt like forever, as though every breath was costing Gwyn her entire strength. When her feet finally found level, she had to bend over in order to catch her breath.

"Harry! Gwyn! Sirius!" a voice yelled. Gwyn glanced up as Harry's head turned towards the source of the owner, a familiar lanky redhead accompanied by three other redheads, two boys and a girl, and a bushy-haired girl.

"Ron! Hermione!" Gwyn said happily, forgetting her exhaustion to run up to her friends, hugging each of them. "Oh, my gosh, it's so great to see you!"

"Gwyn, you have positively blossomed over the summer," Fred Weasley, Ron's older brother, said with a dramatic, sweeping bow to her. "I say, you're like a beautiful rose, but until now, you've only been in bud, not yet flourished."

Giving both Fred and his twin George amused smiles, Gwyn said, "You two try every year to butter me up and it hasn't worked yet, has it?"

"A man's got to do what a man's got to do," George said theatrically. "Besides, a radiant flower like you can't simply walk around Hogwarts unspoken for. You need—"

"A man," Fred cut in.

"A gentleman," George corrected. "And my brother and I are just the ones to do it. We're offering our services to you, so that we might finally have the pleasure of being around your beauty twenty-four hours a day—"

"Seven days a week," Fred added.

"Well, you two might want to take that up with my boyfriend," Gwyn answered, smiling pleasantly. Both twins' looks faded.

"Boyfriend?" Fred complained. "That's not fair, why are all of the good ones already taken?"

"Who's your boyfriend?" George wanted to know. "I mean, we have to make sure that he's good enough for you, with you being the most beautiful girl in Gryffindor ever to grace our presence."

Gwyn shrugged, catching Harry's eye mischievously. He grinned, knowing what she had in mind as he moved around to slip his arms around her waist. "Well, you can talk to him if you want, but since you've been talking to him for three years, you should be good on the talking," she said with a smile.

"What?!" Hermione squealed, staring at them in astonishment. "You two are dating?!"

"Huh?" The look on Ron's face was priceless, Gwyn though in amusement. She would've paid big money just to get that expression on camera. "You two are . . .?"

"Yeah, we are," Harry said, grinning happily. Ron and Hermione gawked at them in amazement, then at each other, then back at them. "You two going to say something, or just stare at us?"

That broke the tension and Hermione came forward to hug both of them again. "It's about time," she said, looking at Gwyn accusingly. "I cannot believe that you didn't tell us about this!"

"Yeah, mate, we're supposed to be your friends!" Ron complained.

"Mostly?" Gwyn said with a wicked grin. "Because I wanted to see your expressions in person. And I told you that we should have brought a camera with us," she added, looking up at Harry with a smirk. "Now, we're only gonna have our memories to capture that moment forever instead of a photo."

Fred and George laughed while the only Weasley girl Ginny just looked disappointed and sulky. Gwyn felt a twinge of guilt; the youngest Weasley had always had a bit of a crush on Harry since the first time that she had met him, but Gwyn had thought that Ginny was over that. Certainly, she hadn't said much about it the last summer or all last year.

"When did this happen?" Hermione wanted to know as she looked between Gwyn and Harry.

"Uh . . . officially, about a week ago," Harry answered. "Unofficially, since the end of last term."

"We'll give you the details later," Gwyn said with a smile. "When there aren't two boys that I know will take everything that we say and twist it around for all of Hogwarts to hear," she said, looking at the twins pointedly.

Fred look affronted. "I cannot believe that you would accuse us of that," he said defensively. "We are completely innocent."

That caused laughter to erupt all around the hill, even from Mr. Weasley and Sirius, who were standing nearby talking, and the twins reluctantly grinned in appreciation.

"If you two were ever completely and totally innocent, then I'll eat one of those inventions that I know you've got going on behind your mother's back," Gwyn said, folding her arms across her chest. "Who else are we meeting up here, anyway?"

"Just the Diggorys," Mr. Weasley answered.

"Cedric Diggory?" she asked curiously. She had only seen the Hufflepuff Seeker a handful of times and talked to him less than that, but he was always nice and polite.

"Yes and his father Amos," Mr. Weasley replied, glancing around. "Ah, here they come now." He nodded as two men were heading towards them. Gwyn recognised the younger one Cedric and the man looked like he could be his father. She could definitely see the resemblance between the two. "Everyone, this is Amos Diggory. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son Cedric?"

"Long walk, Arthur, Sirius?" Mr. Diggory asked once they had all exchanged their hellos.

"About an hour's walk," Sirius answered. "We're a couple villages over."

"We live just on the other side of the village," Mr. Weasley added. "So not too bad. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced?" Mr. Diggory looked over at his son. "I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still . . . not complaining . . . Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons—and tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy. . . ." he added, looking around at the group. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Only the redheads," Mr. Weasley said with a smile as he gestured Gwyn, Harry, and Hermione. "This is Hermione and Gwyn, friends of Ron's, and this is Sirius's godson Harry, another friend—"

"Merlin's beard," Mr. Diggory said, sounding stunned. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said, sounding uncomfortable. Gwyn knew how awkward it was for him when people looked at his scar, the remnant of the curse that had rebounded upon Voldemort when he had been a year old. But he had also lost his parents that night . . .

"Ced's talked about you, of course. Told us all about playing against you last year. . . . I said to him, I said—Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will. . . . _You beat Harry Potter!_" Mr. Diggory was practically beaming at the thought, but his son looked rather embarrassed.

"Harry fell off of his broom, Dad. I told you . . . it was an accident. . . ." Cedric tried to correct him, but his father only laughed and slapped him on the back, still proud and beaming.

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you? Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman . . . but the best man won. I'm sure Harry'd say the same thing, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

Gwyn really wanted to remind Mr. Diggory that it hadn't been Harry's fault; dementors had been swarming the stadium at the time and due to the fact that Harry had more tragic memories than most people, they had a bad affect on him. However, Mr. Weasley decided to intervene before a fight broke out, seeing as the twins didn't look any happier than she felt and Sirius looked practically murderous.

"Must be nearly time. Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?" he asked, moving the conversation into safer waters.

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets. There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of." Mr. Weasley glanced down at his watch to check the time. "Yes, it's a minute off. . . . We'd better get ready. . . . You just need to touch the Portkey, a finger will do," he explained to the three of them that had been raised in the Muggle world.

Gwyn thought that this was easier said than done, considering that there were eleven of them crowding around a dirty old boot. For a minute, she thought that the adult wizards had lost their minds, but then she reconsidered. After everything that she had seen and done in the three years since she had entered the wizarding world, she doubted that this was going to be the strangest thing that she had ever seen.

It was a good thing that they were up so early, because if any Muggles were passing by just then, they would most definitely notice this peculiar sight, Gwyn thought as they all stood around the boot, clutching their backpacks and things as they waited.

"Three . . ." Mr. Weasley said, his gaze still fixed upon his watch, waiting for whatever was about to happen. Gwyn suddenly thought that she was going to prefer Floo Powder after this and genuinely hoped that it was _not_ her seer powers kicking in. "Two . . . one . . ."

"Oh!" Gwyn gave a soft gasp as she felt as though she had been yanked forward, pulled through a very tight tube with everyone else. She slammed her eyes shut as there was a swirl of colours and wind everywhere and she couldn't break the connection on the boot; it was as though it had been superglued to the boot.

Feeling everyone bang against her, Gwyn decided that unless she could avoid it, she was going to stick to Floo Powder after this. Why couldn't wizards find some way to travel that didn't make her feel nauseous and unsteady on her feet afterwards?

Without any warning, Gwyn felt her feet return to the ground and she stumbled over, collapsing onto the ground along with the rest of them.

Giving a soft groan, Gwyn shook her head, trying to clear it as she looked around at her surroundings, noticing immediately that she was not the only one who looked nauseous. Almost everyone did, including the only ones that were standing: Sirius, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," an unfamiliar wizard said as they all got to their feet. Gwyn looked around and noticed that there were two wizards looking like they had been on duty all night.

Slowly getting to her feet, Gwyn helped Hermione up as the adults talked to the wizards, getting directions to where the tents were—Sirius and Mr. Weasley had booked the same space—and then they set off towards the campsite.

They were on their way to the World Cup.


	6. At the Campsite

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Six: At the Campsite

Gwyn hoisted her bag higher onto her shoulder as they reached the first field, where their campsite was supposed to be. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the thousands upon thousands of tents that caught her eyes and she turned her head. Every which way she turned her head, there were witches and wizards of different nationalities, languages, and races.

"Wow," she whispered in delight, looking sideways at Harry, who looked as deeply impressed as she was.

As they headed towards a cottage, they said goodbye to the Diggorys as they approached it, spotting at once what was probably the only real Muggle in miles. Gwyn waited with Hermione and Ron as Mr. Weasley spoke to Mr. Roberts about their arrangements and hauled Harry off to help him with the Muggle money he had.

"I can't believe that you didn't tell me about this," Hermione said, giving her a half-dirty look.

"Honestly, we were going to, but it just happened a few days ago," Gwyn said pleadingly. "And besides, we knew we were going to see you two in a few days anyway, so we thought we'd just tell you guys when we saw you."

Hermione peered at her. "Are you happy?"

Giving her a broad smile, Gwyn let her knew the extensiveness of her happiness. "I'm happy."

"Good." Hermione was pleased, grinning wildly. "I'm happy for the both of you. It's about time that you two got your act together, anyway. You two have been dancing around each other practically since the moment that you laid eyes on each other."

"We have not!" Gwyn protested.

"Yes, you have," Hermione countered. Gwyn smiled and shook her head, catching sight of Ginny as the youngest Weasley looking at Gwyn before turning away, chatting with her brothers.

She sighed. "Is Ginny mad at me for this?" she asked quietly. Hermione glanced at the redheaded girl before looking at Gwyn.

"Maybe a little bit hurt, but she's starting to get over that crush that she had on him. I've spent the past few weeks living with her, trust me, she'll be all right," she assured her.

Gwyn smiled, glad that Ginny wasn't going to be upset with her. While the two of them weren't the best of friends, they get along and she would hate to ruin that, especially considering that she was best friends with her older brother. "Well, I think she's going to be quite the little heartbreaker, anyway," she said with a smile.

"With six older brothers, I couldn't imagine how she would be anything but, especially with Fred and George amongst those brothers," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

With a laugh, Gwyn's attention was drawn to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Roberts as another wizard appeared out of thin air and modified the Muggle's memories. Dazed, Mr. Roberts handed Mr. Weasley his change and a map of the campsite.

The wizard that had appeared walked them towards the front gate. "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur." He Disapparated, leaving the group alone.

"Mr. Bagman?" Gwyn echoed. "The head of Magical Games and Sports? Madeline's boss?" she asked.

"The very same," Sirius confirmed. "Don't know much about him, but he used to play for the Wimbourne Wasps as Beater."

"Shouldn't he know better than to talk about Bludgers around Muggles?" Ginny wanted to know.

"He should," Mr. Weasley agreed as they headed into the campsite. "But Ludo's always been a bit . . . lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department, though."

Gwyn's attention was drawn to the millions of tents that they had spotted from beyond the front gate, looking every which way she could at the tents, some of which looked so magical it wasn't surprising that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Of course, there were some that attempted to be as Muggle as possible, but had attached a chimney or other such unusual appliances to them.

"Always the same," Mr. Weasley said, giving a broad smile towards the tents, clearly amused. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah here, we are," he added. "Look, this is us."

Up ahead of them was a vacant space with a small sign reading WEEZLY.

"Not a bad spot," Sirius observed. "We're not too far from the stadium either."

"No, it's just on the other side of the wood there. We're as close as could be. Right," he added, looking at the group. "No magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult . . . Muggles do it all the time. . . . Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

It took awhile for them to get set up, but Gwyn was pretty impressed once they had finished, but she wondered how twelve people were going to fit into two tents. She, Harry, and Hermione all exchanged a look, clearly thinking the same thing before they entered the tent.

Gwyn could hardly believe her eyes as she saw the tent's furnishing, which looked a little like a three-room apartment, including a bathroom and a kitchen. Looking around, she could tell the other two that had been raised by Muggles were clearly as astonished as she was.

"Just when I think I'm beyond being shocked by this world, something like this happens," Harry murmured to her.

She giggled. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"It's not for long," Mr. Weasley explained. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago." He picked up a kettle. "We're going to need water. . . ."

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," Ron said helpfully. He and his brothers weren't impressed with the magical tent, but then again, the Weasleys had been raised in the magical world, so Gwyn guessed it wasn't that impressive for them. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Harry, Gwyn, and Hermione go and get us some water then," Mr. Weasley said brightly as he handed some kettles and saucepans over to the four. "And the rest of us will get some wood for the fire," he added.

"But we've got an oven," Ron pointed out, gesturing towards the appliance in question. "Why can't we just—"

"Anti-Muggle security, Ron," Sirius reminded him.

"When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors! I've seen them at it," Mr. Weasley insisted.

Gwyn wasn't sure if he was more interested in the security for Muggles or he just wanted a chance to camp like Muggles did it, but either way, after a quick tour of the tent she was sharing with Ginny and Hermione, the quartet made their way to the water tap bearing kettles and saucepans.

She could hear all kinds of languages, but couldn't begin to identify which ones as they passed and all around them, there were witches and wizards of different nationalities, some of which had unattended children at play and others who were clearly ignoring the Ministry regulations.

Pretty soon, Gwyn found herself surrounded by a thick, shamrock patch that were supposed to be tents and heard her, Harry, Hermione, and Ron's names beyond yelled at them. Turning around, she saw Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, two of their Gryffindor fourth-years, in front of a tent, along with a woman who looked like she could be Seamus's mother.

"Like the decoration?" Seamus wanted to know as they headed towards them. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?" Mrs. Finnigan questioned. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over _their_ tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added sharply to them. Surrounded by hundreds of Irish supports, Gwyn didn't think that it was wise to even consider supporting Bulgaria.

"Absolutely," she assured Mrs. Finnigan before they hastily made their disappearance, waving goodbye to their friends.

"Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot," Ron pointed out once they were out of hearing range.

"What do you reckon the Bulgarians have on their tents?" Gwyn asked as she noticed a Bulgaria flag was waving proudly in the wind. "Anybody else want to have a look?"

"Yeah, come on," Harry agreed, taking Gwyn's hand as they headed up towards the Bulgarian tents, which instead of being overtaken with overgrown shamrocks or some other plant had posters of the same young man, frowning and blinking at them.

"Krum," Ron said, excited. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!" he added when everyone else looked at him in bewilderment. "He's unbelievable. Really young, too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

Gwyn felt a tug on her seer powers as she blinked and stumbled slightly, a flash occurring in her mind. She saw Krum in the stadium with a million lights flashing around them, the Snitch in his hand. The scoreboard flashed behind him and she blinked at the score: Bulgaria, 160, Ireland, 170.

"You all right?" Harry asked her as he steadied her. "Another premonition?" he added worriedly.

"Yeah, nothing bad, though," Gwyn assured him. "They seem to be getting easier, though. At least I'm not throwing up or fainting every time that I get a vision anymore," she said dryly as, once Harry was sure that she was all right, they headed to the drinking fountain. "It's just a bag headache now."

"What was it about?" Ron asked.

"Don't ask, not unless you want to know the final score of the match tonight," Gwyn advised him as they reached the fountain, where there was already a line.

Once they had collected their water, they headed back to the campsite loaded down with buckets of water, seeing more and more familiar faces, including a few former students of Hogwarts and some whom Gwyn had never seen before, students from different schools. Although she knew that there were other wizarding schools, this was the first time that she had ever come into contact with any of them.

By the time that they got back, the others had collected the wood, but still hadn't gotten the fire started. Hermione intervened and went over to go help him while they set the water down and helped them in getting lunch ready by the time that the three eldest Weasleys arrived. Gwyn knew Percy from school, as he had just graduated, but she hadn't met Bill or Charlie before. Bill, she knew, worked at the bank and had been a prefect at school, so she was sort of surprised when she saw him in sort of a rock star look, including a long haircut and an earring. Charlie worked with dragons in Romania, so she wasn't surprised when she felt a few burns on his hands as they shook hands.

Halfway through their lunch, Ludo Bagman, Madeline's boss, showed up, positively beaming as he saw the group.

"Ahoy there!" he greeted them. "Arthur, Sirius, how are you two? What a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming . . . and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements. . . . Not much for me to do!"

Gwyn frowned slightly as she saw several Ministry wizards rushing past them to smother down the magical evidence coming from another group. Clearly, Bagman was not one who was on top of things, but she kept this opinion to himself as Mr. Weasley made introductions.

"Yes, I remember!" Bagman said delightedly as Gwyn was introduced. "You're Madeline's daughter, right?"

"Charge," Gwyn said softly, but she wasn't heard as Bagman looked around at the adults.

"Fancy a flutter on the match?" he asked, his robes jingling with a heap of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first—I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years—and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week long match."

Noticing the twins were digging through their pockets, Gwyn lowered her voice as she leaned closer. "Hey, guys," she whispered. They looked at her. "If you want to bet, then I'd suggest going with Ireland, but that Krum gets the Snitch."

Fred looked incredulous, but interested while George grinned. "Thanks for the tip," he whispered back.

"Oh," Gwyn added in an undertone. "I'd keep the money on you, if I were you. He's got a lot of problems with gambling, from what Madeline told me."

"Thanks, Gwyn," Fred added, grinning at her before looking at Bagman. "We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts that Ireland wins—but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh," he added, "and we'll throw in a fake wand."

Bagman was excited as he took one of the fake wands that Gwyn had no doubt the twins were working on behind their mother's back and it gave a screech before turning into a rubber chicken.

"Excellent!" he said, laughing with delight. "I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

"Boys, I don't want you betting," Mr. Weasley told them. "That's all your savings. . . . Your mother—"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur! They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win, but Krum will get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance. . . . I'll give you excellent odds on that one. . . . We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, huh?"

The twins heeded Gwyn's advice to keep their money as the conversation turned back to Ministry talk revolving around the Bulgarian Ministry officials that had come to the match and Bertha Jerkins.

"What was that you were talking to Fred and George about?" Ron wanted to know, arching an eyebrow.

"Just giving them a bit of advice," Gwyn said lightly, shrugging. "Don't worry about it." She glanced up as another wizard appeared, but this one looked as though he could have passed all too easily for a Muggle. If Percy's description of him was to be put to truth, then this had to be his boss, Bartemius Crouch.

"There you are, Ludo," Crouch said, sounding a bit impatient as he walked towards the group after Bagman called to him, getting his attention. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting that we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh, is _that_ what they're after?" Bagman asked. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" Percy sounded breathless and Gwyn was forced to duck behind Harry as she smothered her laugher when he bowed. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh—yes, thank you, Weatherby." This caused Gwyn to turn redder in the face, trying very hard not to burst into a fit of giggles. The twins were not as controlled, as both of them snorted into their tea. "Oh and I've been wanting a word with you, too, Arthur," he added. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

"I sent him an owl about that last week," Mr. Weasley sighed. "If I've told him once, I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle artefact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it. He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" Bagman pointed out.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," Mr. Crouch said. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve—but that was before carpets were banned, of course," he added, speaking as though no one could doubt that his family had lived strictly by the rules.

"Been keeping busy, Barty?" Bagman inquired.

Gwyn noticed at this point that Sirius was watching Crouch very sharply and there was a dangerous look in his eyes that she had not seen since she had met him, when he had been looking at the man responsible for sending him to Azkaban, the one who was right now possibly looking for his master.

Peter Pettigrew.

Frowning slightly at the gaze in Sirius's eyes, Gwyn looked to Harry to see if he had noticed, but he and Ron were in deep conversation about the upcoming match. Sirius noticed her watching and his expression cleared, only giving her a small, reassuring smile before looking away.

Wondering what that was all about, Gwyn shook her head to clear it as both Crouch and Bagman got up and headed away to meet with the Bulgarians.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" Fred asked the moment that they were gone. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," his father replied simply.

"It's classified information until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," Percy retorted. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Shut up, Weatherby," Fred countered and Gwyn covered her mouth, trying very hard not to smile.

As the day continued to go by, Gwyn watched as the excitement began to heighten and she was practically quivering with exhilaration as the Ministry finally gave up trying to hide the obvious signs of magic that were happening all around them, as salesmen were appearing everywhere with carts of merchandise. Gwyn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione broke away from the rest of the group to buy souvenirs.

Madeline had given her some extra pocket money for exactly this occasion, along with some birthday money, so Gwyn eagerly made her way through the carts to make her purchases. Pretty soon, she had a green rosette, a program, and a green scarf that emitted golden sparks every time that she took a step.

"Hey, look at these!" Harry said, walking over to a particular cart.

"Omnioculars," Gwyn said, recognising them. She had bought a pair for him a few years ago for his birthday, with Puddlemere United's entire season on them.

"You can replay action . . . slow everything down . . . and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it," the saleswizard said, beaming. "Ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," Ron said longingly, gesturing towards the dancing green shamrock hat that he had.

"Four pairs," Harry said, his tone leaving no room for argument, though Ron did put up a protest. He was always sensitive when it came to money and the fact that all three of them had much more money that he had. "You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry said simply as he handed a pair to each of them. "For about ten years, mind."

Gwyn laughed, but smiled appreciatively at her boyfriend. "Thanks, Harry," she said as he paid for them and they made their way back to the tents.

The match was about to begin.


	7. The Quidditch World Cup

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Seven: The Quidditch World Cup

They climbed forever until they reached their seats, because they had gotten the best seats in the entire place, right in the Top Box, with the Minister and other officials. Madeline, who was working the event, waved to Gwyn as she passed, but couldn't stop what she was doing to say hello. Gwyn's heart was racing in excitement as they finally managed to track down their seats and sat down, eagerly awaiting the start of the Quidditch World Cup.

Gwyn was too busy waiting for the match to start that she didn't notice that her seer powers were buzzing. She thought that she felt a cold feeling creeping up her spine, but she was too busy talking to Harry to pay much attention to it as she gazed around the already filled stadium.

Hundreds upon hundreds of witches and wizards were crammed into the stadium, which was bigger than she ever could have imagined, bigger than any stadium than she had ever seen, bigger than anything she had ever laid her eyes on.

"Dobby?"

Gwyn pulled her attention away from admiring the stadium at Harry's inquiry and she turned around at the name, turning towards the house-elf that he had been talking to.

Dobby had been a house-elf who had been "trying" to save his life during their second-year. Key word on try, because all he did was end up getting Harry in trouble and almost getting him killed. She was the only one of their friends who had actually met Dobby, but she'd only caught a glimpse of him as he and his former master, Lucius Malfoy, was leaving. Harry had gone after them and had tricked Malfoy into freeing Dobby.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" the house-elf asked, not Dobby, but clearly a house-elf. "I knows Dobby too, sir. My name is Winky, sir—and you, sir—" A small gasp escaped from her as she peered up at Harry, her gaze fixing upon the recognisable scar. "You is surely Harry Potter! Dobby talks about you all the time, sir!"

"How is he?" Harry asked, turning around in his seat to talk to give Winky his full attention. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favour, sir, when you is setting him free," Winky said, shaking her head dismally. Her words made Gwyn frown; what could possibly be wrong about letting someone be free to choose their own path?

"Why?" Harry asked, his expression undoubtedly mirroring hers. He exchanged a surprised look with Gwyn. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," Winky said dejectedly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir. He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

"What's wrong with that?" Gwyn asked, cocking her head. "He should be able to get paid if that's what he wants."

Once the words were out of her mouth, she knew that she probably shouldn't have said anything, because Winky looked revolted.

"House-elves are not paid, miss!" she squeaked. "No, no, no, I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir," she added, looking at Harry now, "what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," Harry reasoned, but Winky just shook her head wildly.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," she said fiercely, but she was hiding her head in her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter, but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir." She gave the box around them a frightened look, looking positively terrified.

"Why would he send you up here, if he knows that you don't like heights?" Harry asked.

"Master—master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy. Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf." Without another word, she buried her face into her hands to avoid looking at the thousands of feet below her. Gwyn couldn't blame her for that

"So, that's a house-elf?" Ron asked quietly when they had turned back in their seats. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," Harry returned, shaking his head as the time for the match to start began drawing closer and closer and Ministry officials began to draw into the box.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, arrived in the Box, pulled Harry away from Gwyn and introduced him to several of the foreign ministers. Gwyn was busy paying attention to the crowds below her in interest, thinking seriously about following in Madeline's footsteps and working in the Department of Magical Sports and Games, when she heard the Minister say, "Ah, and here's Lucius!"

Her head snapped around so fast that her teeth shattered and she found herself looking directly at the Malfoy family. The patriarch Lucius, his wife Narcissa, and their son Draco were standing right behind them. Sirius's eyes narrowed in extreme dislike as he looked at Narcissa, who acted as though she didn't see him. Draco sent a repulsive look towards Gwyn and his mother turned up her nose as the sight of her.

Gwyn was all too familiar as to what that was about. Her mother had been a pureblood, daughter of one of the highest pureblood families in England, and she had chosen to marry a Muggle, turning her back on everything that her family had taught her, and in return, she was cast out, rejected, and scorned. The only family members of her mother's side that she had met were her two cousins, Alaric and Morgause, and they acted as though she were scum. Thankfully, this was Alaric's last year, so she only had to put up with him for this last year and then, it was only Morgause.

"Good lord, Arthur," Mr. Malfoy said while the Minster was busy making introductions, his eyes sweeping across the group in front of them. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much."

"Lucius has just made a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's," Fudge said, clearly not having heard the exchange. "He's here as my guest."

"How nice," Mr. Weasley said, keeping his voice even and Gwyn felt for her wand in her pocket in case something happened. She hadn't forgotten their last meeting, in which the bookstore in Diagon Alley had been completely wrecked due to a brawl.

Thankfully, however, the Malfoys were not going to cause a scene right under the Minister's nose, because they just continued down to their seats and waited for the match to begin. Gwyn shook her head, glancing at her boyfriend as the Minister and Bagman finally began the match.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"_ Bagman announced once he had made his voice magnify a hundred times its natural tone. _"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!_" Gwyn leaned forward in anticipation as a group of women, veela, that were exquisitely beautiful women that she'd ever seen. She clapped politely as they began to dance. Most of the men around her plugged their ears, but Harry and Ron and some of the younger Weasleys, unaware of what damage the veela could do, were left vulnerable to their charm. Gwyn had to hold on to Harry to keep him from jumping out of the box, keeping a firm grip on him so hold him in his seat.

Once the veela were finished dancing, Bagman continued, _"And now, kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascot!_"

Green and gold comets whizzed around the stadium, hitting the goalposts and releasing a rainbow that dazzled across the stadium. As it disappeared, a shamrock appeared above the stadium, compromised of hundreds of leprechauns, and Galleons started tumbling down around them.

Gwyn laughed, covering her head so she wouldn't get hit by any of it. Ron, however, caught some of it and shoved it into Harry's hands as a payment for the Omnioculars that he had bought the four of them before the match. Finally, it stopped raining Galleons and the leprechauns settled down on the opposite side of the veela so they, too, could watch the match.

_"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome—the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you—Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! And Krum!" _Gwyn rolled her eyes as the stadium went ballistic as Bagman said the last name. If he wasn't famous, then most of them wouldn't even give him a second glance, she reasoned as she glimpsed the Bulgarian Seeker. He wasn't unattractive, but he wasn't incredible handsome either.

As the excitement from Krum settled down and people were back in their seats, Bagman continued, _"And now, please greet the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting—Connelly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! And Lynch!"_ The applause was tremendous, but not as much as it had been from Krum and when they had relaxed, the match finally began. _"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"_

Pushing her Omnioculars to her eyes, Gwyn watched in delight as the game began. Even though she had gone to ever school match that they'd had—except for the ones when one of her friends had been in the hospital—Gwyn had never seen one like this before. It was . . . well, it was professional. Every play was keeping her on the edge of her seat, unsure of what was going to happen next.

The Irish players were incredible, playing at a speed that she had never seen before and making moves that she had only read about. The Bulgarians couldn't even keep up with them and in only twenty or so minutes, they had already scored thirty points, forcing the game to become more aggressive. Gwyn winced as both players tried to annihilate the others.

"Note to self, never try and go for professional Quidditch," she muttered under her breath. She hadn't even really played Quidditch before, not a real game, anyway, just recreationally. But if this was what a professional game was like, she definitely wasn't going to go for that.

Gwyn gasped as the two Seekers began speeding towards the ground. Frantically, she looked for the Snitch, but couldn't find any sign of it anywhere. She frowned; where was it?

At the very last possible second, Krum pulled himself out of the dive and Lynch hit the ground with an enormous thud. Gwyn winced at the sound of it; that had to hurt a lot, she thought as the medics came out onto the field as a time-out was called.

Once Lynch was back in the game, the game grew more and more violent as Ireland scored and scored, leaving Bulgaria behind. And then, finally, they caught sight of what all of them had been holding their breath for since the match had begun: The Golden Snitch.

Lynch was diving towards the Snitch while Krum was keeping up, despite the fact that he was injured and had flecks of blood trailing after him. Both of them were hurtling towards the ground again. Gwyn watched in fascination as Lynch, for the second time, hit the ground and Krum, with little to no effort, grabbed the Snitch, gripping it in his hand as he rose into the air, his face triumphant.

Gwyn didn't need to look at the scoreboard; she had already known what was going to happen before the match had even begun. The twins turned to look at her incredulously, but obviously thrilled. She smiled at them, giving them an innocent smile as she cheered for Ireland.

_"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" _Bagman roared as the cup was carried into the box and handed over to Fudge as the Irish began their descent into the box to claim their victory.

Even as she clapped and laughed for Ireland, even though she was happier than she was in the longest time, Gwyn had the peculiar feeling that something was going to happen.

Something that none of them were going to be able to stop. And with the events of tonight, the consequences that would follow would lead all of them to their destinies.

But only time would tell what those destinies might be.


	8. Nightly Terrors

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Eight: Nightly Terrors

_She could hear screaming all around her, chilling her to the bone, but she dared not venture outside of the woods. No, she'd be safe here, right? Gwyn shivered slightly, trying to block out the screams that pierced the night, alerting to all that something was not right, something was going terribly wrong. Her breath quavered as she raced through the trees, her nightdress whispering as she ran, not daring to look back. _

_Where she knew to go, Gwyn didn't know, but she found herself standing right below a clearing that was bathed in an eerie green light and marking the sky was the same sign that she'd seen in her dreams before this, the snake and the skull. Her eyes fixed upon it as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, wishing that she knew what was going on and what that sign was. By now, she knew that she was dreaming. _

_No, not a dream, but one of her dream-visions, born of her seer abilities and warning her of what was to come. But the mere sight of that sign made her blood run cold. _

_Hearing a rustle in the trees, Gwyn turned around, squinting into them and she could've sworn that she saw a flash of blond hair in the trees. _

_"Hey!" she shouted, breaking into a run to stop whoever it was from escaping, but they slipped from her view and as she stood in the spot where the man had just stood, something bumped against her foot. _

_Looking down, she found a wand lying at her feet and she bent down, picking it up and surveying it carefully. She blinked; she knew very well whose wand this was, because she had seen it almost every day for the past three years. It was Harry's . . ._

_Footsteps moved closer to her and Gwyn's head snapped up, trying to find the source of it as someone grabbed her shoulder and she found herself looking at a young, but cold face belonging to the blond man. _

_"It starts tonight," he hissed. _

Waking with a jolt, Gwyn sat up straight in her bed, looking wildly around her, trying to figure out where she was when she saw Hermione and Ginny lying asleep in their beds. Breathing faster than she usually would have, Gwyn shook her head, trying to clear it when she heard faint screaming echoing around her.

Her blood turned cold at the very sound of it. "No, please," she muttered, pushing aside her blankets and racing towards the door of the tent, praying against all odds that she was wrong.

But she wasn't.

All around the campground, there were wizards donned in the same attire, wearing tall hats and all of them had the same skull masks that she had seen in her dreams for more than three years, the ones that had always been connected to her mother's death, when her murderer, once masked, but whom she now knew to be her mother's own cousin Gawain, had haunted her dreams. And all of the wizards were causing havoc through the campground, blasting apart tents and there was a family of Muggles being held hostage, floating overhead.

Barely even able to breathe, Gwyn raced back to the other two girls. "Hermione!" she shrieked, alarm making her voice higher than it usual was. "Ginny! Wake up now! Come on, guys, you've got to get up!" Either her shrill voice was enough to wake them or they heard the panic in her voice, but they got up pretty fast.

"Gwyn, what's going on, it's the middle of the night," Hermione moaned, but Gwyn shook her head, grabbing her shoes and a jacket.

"Come on, grab a jacket and shoes and hurry," she said quickly, ignoring the scandalised looks of her friends and darted outside to wake the boys, but Sirius and Mr. Weasley was already outside, his wand out, with the rest of the boys. All but Bill, Charlie, and Percy were still in their bedclothes. After a quick minute, Hermione and Ginny came racing after her, their faces going pale and horrified as they saw the happenings around them.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted, rolling up his sleeves to assist the Ministry.

Sirius looked at the group, his expression hard and fierce, looking particularly at his godson. "All of you, get into the woods and stick together!" he ordered. "We'll come and find you when this is all over."

Gwyn had no desire to disobey his orders as she grabbed Harry's hand and they raced into the woods, trying to block out the deafening screams that were echoing through the night. She had seen this, she thought miserably, this was part of her vision.

As they were pushed further into the forest by the crowd of people trying to get to safety, they were somehow separated from Ginny, Fred, and George. Gwyn turned as she heard Ron release a yell of pain.

"What happened?" Hermione demanded. Gwyn squinted, trying to see her friends', but it was too dark. Even Ron's bright red hair, usually easy to spot even in the dark, she couldn't even get a glimpse of. "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid!" she complained. "_Lumos!_"

The clearing beamed with light directed from Hermione's wand and Gwyn let out a sigh of relief as Ron was spotting, lying facedown on the ground. He grunted as he got to his feet. "Tripped over a tree root," he said darkly.

Gwyn gave a small, weak chuckle of relief, her hand tightening around Harry's, but her relief turned to annoyance as they all heard the last voice that any one of them would have paid a lot of money not to hear ever again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to." Draco Malfoy was standing nearby, his arms folded easily across his chest, looking more relaxed than he should have been considering the situation, just watching the scene from the campsite.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that if his mother would have been there, he would be lucky to escape with his neck still attached. If the situation were different, then Hermione would have scolded at him and Gwyn would have smacked him.

But as it was, the situation was pretty bleak and they had more important things to worry about then Ron saying something bad to Malfoy, who deserved it on more than one occasion.

"Language, Weasley," Malfoy observed, looking highly amused. "Hadn't you be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like _her_ spotted, would you?" He inclined his head towards Hermione, whose eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Why don't you do us all a favour, Malfoy?" Gwyn returned. "Go walk off a cliff."

"You might want to be running along too, Swann," Malfoy replied easily, his silver eyes glittering dangerously. "After all, if you think that they don't know what Mummy did, marrying that worthless piece of filth after what happened, then stick around. I'm sure they are just as interested in you as they are Muggles."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled, his green eyes furious as Malfoy's returned to Hermione.

"Have it your way, Potter," Malfoy responded carelessly. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, then stay right where you are."

"Watch your mouth!" Ron shouted, looking about ready to attack the blond wizard. "Mudblood" was a very offensive term for annoying who came from non-magic parents, like Hermione.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Gwyn said as Hermione held Ron back, keeping a firm grip on Harry, because he looked like he might attack Malfoy too—or at least help the redhead. "Guys, _let's go_," she added firmly, pushing them away from the blond.

"Smart girl," Malfoy drawled as they headed away from him, moving swiftly and further into the forest.

Once they were out of Malfoy's sights, Gwyn shook her head, looking at Ron reproachfully. "You should know better than to rise to him, Ron," she told him quietly. "It's not like it does any good." Ron ignored her.

"Let's find the others," Hermione suggested.

"We'd have better luck finding a needle in a haystack," Gwyn commented, glancing around them. There was no sign of any of the Weasleys, even though the woods were crowded with people.

"They couldn't have gotten far," Ron reasoned, pulling out his own wand and lighting it.

Drawing out her own, Gwyn murmured, "_Lumos._" The end of her wand blazed with light as Harry dug into his own pocket, looking extremely alarmed.

"Oh, no, I don't believe it! I've lost my wand!"

"What?" Gwyn asked, slightly alarmed. This was not good, she thought as they looked around for any sign of it, but there was no sign of his wand. The memory of her dream swept over her, but she didn't think that this was a good time to mention it.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of the wand and going back to search for it wasn't an option, so they kept going forward, with Gwyn keeping a firm hand on her boyfriend, even more worried now that he was in the greatest danger of them all, being unable to defend himself.

"There is bad wizards about!" Gwyn jumped as she heard a familiar squeaky voice and turned to see Winky running through the woods, with something holding her back. "People high—high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

"What's up with her?" Ron asked as the house-elf disappeared further into the woods. "Why can't she run properly?"

"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," Harry reasoned. Gwyn frowned in distaste; it was repugnant for witches and wizards to be able to force creatures to serve their every whim, all without getting paid or even wearing proper garments. Would it be so much to ask to pay them for their work and to let them wear clothes that weren't just towels or pillowcases?

Hermione seemed to read her thoughts, because she burst out furiously, "You know, house-elves get a _very_ raw deal! It's slavery, that's what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium and she was terrified and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anybody do anything about it?"

"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said. "You heard old Winky back at the match—'House elves is not supposed to have fun' . . . that's what she likes, being bossed around."

"I think it's more that the people who could change it, the people who are in charge of that are in the same opinion as Crouch," Gwyn said quietly. Harry squeezed her hand as Hermione frowned, but conceded her point. "Hermione, why don't you write a paper on it and send it into the _Daily Prophet_? They sometimes print freelance stories."

Hermione brightened. "That's a great idea!" she said enthusiastically as another bang echoed throughout the woods and they all looked around them nervously.

"Let's keep moving, shall we?" Ron said nervously.

They travelled through the woods, stumbling upon a group of veela and some of their admirers, as well as some students from another school, some goblins gleeful from a bet they'd won and oblivious as to the riot going on, and Mr. Bagman. He had looked strange, not at all like his usual self, and completely unaware of what was going on in the campsite. Once they told him what was happening, however, he left to go assist them.

As they were heading into another part of the woods, Gwyn noticed that her surroundings began getting more and more familiar until she recognised the spot where they were standing.

"Guys," she whispered as they had stopped in the clearing. "Guys, I think we should keep moving." All of them looked around at her and Harry got to his feet, recognising her expression. She really did not want to be here. "Please, let's just get out of here, now?"

Harry nodded quickly, motioning to the others. "Come on, let's go," he instructed as rustling in the woods caught their attention and they turned towards the sound. "Hello?" he called as they bunched together nervously. "Who's there?"

Gwyn felt as though she might lose what little she had left in her stomach as a harsh, forceful voice broke through the silence of the trees. "_MORSMORDRE!_"

Gasping in horror, Gwyn watched as the sign that had been in her dreams, the sign that she had been dreaming about all summer, suddenly appeared in the sky. The massive skull appearing in the sky, blazing ghostly green, and a serpent escaped from its mouth, wrapping itself around the skull as it rose into the sky.

All she could do was stare at the symbol, her breath quavering and her blood turning cold as Hermione suddenly grabbed her, pushing her ahead of them, determined to get them out of there.

"Come on!" she whispered, terrified. "Harry, come on!" She grabbed Harry by the collar and pushed him ahead of her.

"Hermione, what—"

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione said, speaking as usual a mile-a-minute while she and Ron were pushing him and Gwyn into the cover of the trees. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

"Hit the ground!" Gwyn shouted, hurling herself to the ground as her seer powers hit her again, warning her just as twenty or more witches and wizards Apparated into the clearing, pointing their wands directly at her and her friends.

The second that they were on the ground, spells erupted around them, Stunning anything in sight and rocketing off one another, disappearing into the trees and Gwyn could've sworn she heard a grunt from where they'd heard the voice from. Her whole body trembled.

"Stop! That's enough! That's my foster daughter!" Gwyn's head snapped up as she heard Madeline's voice, followed by Mr. Weasley's.

"And my son!"

The next thing that she knew, Madeline was yanking her up, her expression anxious as she drew her into a tight embrace, looking over at the other three as Mr. Weasley and Sirius raced into the clearing, looking extremely relieved to see the four of them unhurt—in a very bad spot to be, but not hurt in any way.

"Let go of the suspect, Madeline," Mr. Crouch barked as he moved into the scene of the crime. "Which one of you did it? Which one of you conjured the Dark Mark!"

"We didn't do that!" Harry insisted, gesturing towards the green skull.

"Do not lie, sir!" Mr. Crouch replied. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," Madeline said sharply, looking at him with reproachful eyes, "they're just kids. They never would have even been able to—"

"Where did the Mark come from?" Sirius interrupted, looking at the four of them. Gwyn raised a shaking hand and pointed directly towards the place where she had seen the man in her dream.

"Over there," she whispered.

"There was someone in the trees," Hermione agreed, her voice shaking jerkily. "There was someone behind the trees . . . they shouted words . . . an incantation—"

"Stood over there, did they?" Mr. Crouch looked extremely disbelieving. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy—"

Any other time, Gwyn would have snapped at him, but Mr. Crouch was an important Ministry official and being at the scene of a crime, she didn't think it was a good idea to get her temper out of hand.

"We're too late," Madeline whispered, looking desolately at the trees that Gwyn had pointed at. "They'll have Disapparated."

"I don't think so," a familiar man said. Gwyn recognised him as Mr. Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees. . . . There's a good chance we got them. . . ." He headed into the trees, his wand raised, disappearing into the darkness. A second later, a surprised cry broke the silence. "Yes! We've got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's—but—blimey . . ."

"You've got someone?" Crouch sounded amazed. "Who? Who is it?"

Gwyn couldn't believe her eyes as Mr. Diggory carried Winky out of the forest, laying her at Mr. Crouch's feet.

Winky? But how could . . . she had seen . . . no, it had been a man she'd seen, a man . . . a blond man . . . how could it be Winky?

A split-second later, Gwyn realised, it couldn't be. Winky was a house-elf; she had magic, but could only use it with her master's permission and besides that, her voice was squeaky, not the harsh, brash voice that they all had heard when the Mark had been summoned.

"No point, Mr. Crouch!" Mr. Diggory called as Crouch headed into the place where Winky had been found, as though determined to place the blame on anyone else. "Bit embarrassing. Barty Crouch's house-elf . . . I mean to say . . ."

"Come off it, Amos," Mr. Weasley said, looking at him in exasperation. "You don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizards' sign. It requires a wand."

"She had a wand."

"What?"

Mr. Diggory held up a wand. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. _No non-human creatures is permitted to carry or use a wand._"

Gwyn wanted desperately to say something, to tell them that Winky wasn't who she'd seen in the dream, but then she'd have to explain about her dreams and that she was a seer. And judging from the look in Sirius's eyes, he was clearly telling her to keep quiet.

A loud pop of someone Apparating startled her as Ludo Bagman appeared in the clearly, staring at the Mark in the sky.

"The Dark Mark! Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What's going on?" he asked as Crouch reappeared, his jaw tight and Gwyn thought she saw something flicker behind his eyes, something that he was holding back from the rest of the group. "Where have you been, Barty? Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat, too—gulping gargoyles!" His eyes had finally found Winky, still lying unconscious, on the ground, his eyes widening further. "What happened to _her_?"

"I've been busy, Ludo," Crouch responded. "And my elf has been Stunned."

"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why—?" Bagman's eyes fixed upon the Mark, then to Winky, and finally rested on Crouch. "No! Winky? Conjured the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

"She had one," Mr. Diggory informed him. "I found her holding on, Ludo. If it's all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself." Pointing his wand at Winky, he said, "_Ennervate!_"

Slowly, Winky woke, moving into a sitting position, disoriented. It took her a full minute to even realise that there were wizards around her. The moment that she saw them, she gasped in terror, her eyes fixed upon the Mark, and sobs escaped from her.

"Elf! Do you know who I am?" Mr. Diggory didn't wait for a response. "I am a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago! And you were discovered moments later right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"

"I—I—I is not doing it, sir! I is not know how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" Mr. Diggory bellowed, holding it out in front of her. The wand hit the light, revealing the wand in question for the first time and Gwyn realised she recognised it.

She didn't have time to say anything, because at the same time, her boyfriend said loudly, "Hey, that's mine!" Everyone turned to look at Harry incredulously. "That's my wand!" he explained, gesturing towards the wand Mr. Diggory held. "I dropped it!"

"You dropped it!" Mr. Diggory repeated. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark!"

"That's enough!" Sirius barked angrily. "Is my godson—is Harry Potter—really likely to conjure the Dark Mark?" A few of the Ministry workers glanced edgily at the recently ex-convict, but most of them looked sheepish.

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," Harry said, nodding towards the trees. "I missed it right after we got into the woods."

Satisfied, Mr. Diggory returned his attention to Winky. "So, you found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir! I is . . . I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" Hermione burst out. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!"

"She's right," Gwyn agreed. "It wasn't Winky; it didn't sound anything like her."

"It definitely didn't sound like an elf," Harry agreed as the girls turned to look at the boys expectantly.

"Yeah, it was a human voice," Ron agreed.

"We'll soon see," Mr. Diggory replied. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?" Gwyn knew; Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, had cast the spell on her wand last year when she and her cousin Morgause had been caught in a scuffle and Morgause had accused her of attacking her behind her back. Thanks to the spell, however, she had been released of any wrongdoing.

"_Priori Incantanto!_" Diggory tapped Harry's wand and a shadow of the same symbol that hovered above them escaped from the wand. "_Deletrius!_" he shouted, waving his wand again and the smoke spell disappeared. "So . . ."

"I is not doing it! I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands, I isn't knowing how!"

"_You've been caught red-handed, elf! Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!_" Mr. Diggory shouted.

"Amos," Mr. Weasley interrupted, "think about it . . . precious few wizards know how to do that spell. . . . Where would she have learned it?"

"Perhaps Amos is suggesting," Crouch said dangerously, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Mr. Crouch . . . not . . . not at all—"

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are _least _likely to conjure the Mark! Harry Potter—and myself. I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos? And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them? If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory! Where else would shave have learned to conjure it?

"She—she might have picked it up anywhere—" Mr. Diggory mumbled, clearly having lost his bravado.

"Precisely, Amos," Mr. Weasley agreed. "_She might have picked it up anywhere. _Winky?" he asked. She flinched, despite that his tone was kind and gentle. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"

"I—I is finding it . . . finding it there, sir . . . there, in the trees, sir," she whispered, rocking back and forth.

"You see, Amos? Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up," Mr. Weasley smoothed the whole thing over.

"But then, she'd have only been a few feet away from the real culprit! "Elf!" Mr. Diggory turned back to her. "Did you see anyone?"

Winky gulped. Gwyn watched curiously as her eyes flickered over the group before landing on her master before she whispered, "I is seeing no one, sir . . . no one . . ."

"Amos, I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning," Crouch said, his tone brisk. "I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her. You may rest assured that she will be punished. Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible. I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes."

Gwyn felt a flash of anger go out towards Crouch as Winky begged and pleaded, sobbing harder than she had all night over Crouch's shoes. The only way to set free a house-elf was to give them clothes. It was how Harry had tricked the Malfoys into releasing Dobby.

"She was frightened!" Hermione protested angrily. Her brown gaze was filled with fury as she looked at Crouch, who glanced her way coldly. "Your elf's scared of heights and those wizards were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me. I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master and to her master's reputation," he replied calmly.

Whether he recognised the look on her face or thought it was best to make a quick exit, Sirius said, "Well, I think we should take the kids back to the tent." Madeline caught Gwyn's eye and gestured for her to go with them. "Amos, that wand's told us all it can, if Harry could have it back, please?"

"Come on, you four," Mr. Weasley said as Harry pocketed his wand. Gwyn tugged on Hermione's arm, forcing her to come alone.

"There's nothing that you can do for her," she whispered, glancing back at Winky. "They won't listen to a bunch of kids."

"The way they were treating her!" Hermione raged once they were out of hearing. "Mr. Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time . . . and Mr. Crouch! He knows she didn't do it and he's still going to sack her! He didn't care how frightened she'd been or how upset she was—it was like she didn't even have any feelings!"

"That's Barty Crouch for you," Sirius said darkly. "If you want to know what a man is like, take a look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

"Right now isn't the time to discuss elf rights, 'Mione," Gwyn reasoned, wrapping her arm around her friend's shoulder. "Can somebody please explain about that Mark thing?"

"When we get back to the tent," Mr. Weasley assured her. "What happened to the others?"

They explained quickly and got to the tent reasonably quickly, despite that they were stopped by a heard of people demanding to know what had happened, and once they got back to the tent, they all sat down at the kitchen table and explained to the wondering others what had happened in the woods before they finally reached the topic of the Dark Mark.

"It's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," Hermione told him when Ron brought it up. "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._"

"I get that part, but why the mass panic?" Gwyn asked, looking towards Sirius for an explanation.

"Death Eaters—that's what Voldemort's followers are called," he added, ignoring the shiver that went around the room at the sound of the name, "sent that Mark into the sky whenever they killed somebody."

"The terror it inspired," Mr. Weasley murmured, "you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home to find the Dark Mark hovering over your home, knowing what you're about to find inside. Everyone's worst fear . . . the very worst . . ."

"Did you catch any of the Death Eaters tonight?" Gwyn wanted to know.

"Whoever they were, they were scared off when they saw the Mark," Mr. Weasley said. "They Disapparated before we unmasked any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified as they speak."

"What was the point of it, though? Of Death Eaters levitating Muggles?" Harry wanted to know.

"The point?" Mr. Weasley released a sharp laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power was for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us that all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he said grimly.

"Wouldn't they have been pleased to see the Dark Mark, though, if they were Death Eaters?" Ron asked.

"Not remotely," Gwyn corrected, shaking her head. "They've all worked really hard to stay out of prison after Voldemort lost power." Ignoring the shiver, Gwyn continued, "They had to say all kinds of things to keep themselves out, probably said that Voldemort was forcing them to do those things, to kill and torture people. I'd say that they're more frightened than we are of him coming back. After he lost his powers, they just went back to their lives, as though they had done nothing. They completely turned their backs on him. Do you really think that he's going to be pleased with them?"

"Gwyn's right," Sirius agreed. "And with Peter gone back to him . . . I'd say it's only a matter of time before Voldemort comes back. Now, I think we need to get some sleep and get out of here early."

"I agree," Mr. Weasley said, standing up. "If Molly hears about what happened, she'll be worried sick."

"Come on, I'll walk you girls to your tent," Sirius said, gesturing for them to head out with him.

But as Ginny and Hermione headed inside, he held Gwyn back and moved down to her level, looking at her seriously.

"So," he said quietly, "what did you see?"


	9. Anxieties and Dresses

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Nine: Anxieties and Dresses

Unfortunately, Gwyn wasn't able to give Sirius much of a description of the man, other than he had blond hair and he was fairly young, so they had no idea who he could have been. Besides, even if they did, the Ministry wasn't going to believe her, since the Sight wasn't a common gift and those who did have usually just spewed prophecies instead of had visions. Gwyn knew fully well that the last witch to have it was her mother and Aurora had been the first in quite a few generations.

Gwyn slept badly after that, visions of the Dark Mark in the sky plaguing her dreams, mixed in with the man darting in and out of view and that cemetery that she'd been dreaming about for awhile now swarming in and out of view, causing her to wake up several times before she finally gave up on any more sleep and just lay there until Mr. Weasley came and woke them, packing them up quickly before speeding them as far away from the campsite as possible, catching the first Portkey they were able to get back to where they had left.

Instead of taking them back to Padfoot Place, Sirius ushered them towards the Burrow, where an anxious Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them, practically throwing herself onto her husband in a nervous breakdown and reassuring herself that they were all safe and well, because the story of what happened had already made the papers.

Once they were all safely inside and Mrs. Weasley had a cup of tea in her hands, Mr. Weasley began reading the article about what had happened. "_Ministry blunders . . . culprits not apprehended . . . lax security . . . Dark wizards running unchecked . . . national disgrace. . . ._ Who wrote this?" he said, scanning the article. "Of course . . . Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" Percy said furiously as Gwyn sat in one of the chairs drowsily, half-leaning on Harry, tiredness escaping from her. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of None-Wizard Part-Humans—"

"Shut up, Percy!" Ron, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George yelled. Gwyn couldn't help but chuckle and Harry gave a wry grin as Mr. Weasley continued to read the article.

"I'm mentioned," he commented.

"Where?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, looking agitated. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," her husband corrected as he began to read the paper aloud. "Listen to this:_ If the terrified witches and wizards who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later remains to be seen._ Really, nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? _Rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods . . ._ well, there will be rumours now she's printed that." Shaking his head in dismay, Mr. Weasley looked around regretfully towards his wife, getting to his feet. "Molly," he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," Percy said at once. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

"Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely, they can handle this without you?"

"Come on," Gwyn muttered to the other three, jerking her head towards Ron's bedroom discreetly. Sirius was going to be heading into the offices to help out, anyway; after being pardoned, they had given him a job as an Auror. They'd be stuck here for a few hours anyway.

Making quick excuses, the quartet climbed up the many staircases until they reached Ron's bedroom, closing the door behind them. Once inside, Ron immediately asked, "What's going on?"

"There's something I haven't told you two," Harry said, releasing a sigh and sharing a quick glance with Gwyn. "Last week, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Ron looked horrified and even a little afraid while Hermione covered her mouth in terror before naming half of the books in the Hogwarts library and the staff at the school.

"You—you don't think that he was there, do you?" Ron said after a moment, still looking shaken. "I mean . . . last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"No, he definitely wasn't anywhere near Padfoot Place," Gwyn said firmly from where she was sitting by the window, the weak sun turning her hair to gold. They all turned to look at her. "I know that I would have sensed it if we were in danger."

"I was having a dream about him," Harry explained. "I was dreaming about him and . . . him and Peter—you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill . . . someone." Wisely, he didn't say who they were planning on killing, but Gwyn knew that they all knew who he meant by that.

"And I've been having weird dreams again," Gwyn confessed, drawing the attention to her. "I've been dreaming about this cemetery for a few weeks now and . . . well, I saw the Dark Mark in it. And it can't be just a coincidence. I'm having visions, Harry's scar hurting, the Death Eaters are on the move, Voldemort's sign is up in the sky . . . all of these things separated do not add up to something happening, but together? I'd say that there's something big going on," she said quietly, staring perturbed into space and purposely ignoring Ron's whine about saying Voldemort's name. She had no problem with saying it; being afraid of his name just gave Voldemort power and she refused to give that monster any more power over her than he already had. Even though he hadn't dealt the final blow to Aurora Swann, his follower—her own cousin—had been the cause of it, which made him responsible.

"Not to mention, remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry added. "At the end of last term?"

Gwyn nodded, remember the prophecy that Harry had told her about and it caused her inside to go cold at the very thought of it.

Unfortunately, she and Harry were the only ones who thought so, because Hermione's terrified look instantly vanished as she let out a sharp laugh. "Harry, you aren't seriously going to pay attention that old fraud says?" she demanded.

"You weren't there. You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trace—a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again . . . _greater and more terrible than before _. . . and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him . . . and Wormtail escaped the next day without a trace."

Gwyn stared down at her hands as a heaviness settled down upon them and she forced them to look on the bright side. "But Sirius knows about it," she reminded Harry. "And I'm sure that he's told Dumbledore by now, especially with everything that's happening, and if anybody can figure out what's going on around here, it's Dumbledore. Come on, it's still summer and there's nothing really that we can do about it, guys."

"She's right," Ron said brightly. "Come on, let's have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry! Three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play. . . . You can try out the Wronski Feint . . ."

"Give it up, Hermione," Gwyn said, shaking her head as the boys headed up and out of the room, already thinking about Quidditch and pushing their problems aside. "You're never going to win that one. Besides," she added, "no way that any of us are going to be able to sleep right now."

Hermione sighed, but followed Gwyn out of the room, heading down to the orchard to watch the boys play.

--

Since both Sirius and Madeline were working overtime in the Ministry, Gwyn and Harry were currently staying at the Weasleys, Harry staying in Ron's room, as per usual, and Gwyn bunking with Hermione and Ginny, whom she had finally had a chance to talk about her relationship with Harry regarding Ginny's former crush on him.

"It's okay, Gwyn," Ginny said, though she looked a little bit dejected, "I know that he doesn't like me that way. I'm not going to deny that I'm a little bit jealous, but . . . I care about the both of you and I want you guys to be happy. And if happy means the two of you together, they I say go for it."

The following week up until they went back to school was relatively quiet considering how much of an uproar the World Cup had been, but neither Mr. Weasley, Percy, or Sirius was around very much and Mrs. Weasley, being extremely overprotective, wasn't very much inclined to letting any of them out of the house, so they were stuck to either hanging around the house or going to the Quidditch pad, but always under the eye of one of the elder Weasley brothers.

The night before they were going back to school, Mr. Weasley came back home—as usual, well after dinner had been served—and began telling them what was going on around the Ministry. Rita Skeeter, the _Daily Prophet_ reporter, had been around the Ministry all week, just hoping to get some juicy gossip to make the Ministry look like complete fools and she'd found out that Bertha Jorkins, the witch in Madeline's department, had been missing for months and Bagman hadn't bothered to send anyone after her.

Of course, that led to the subject of Winky, which led to Hermione's recent opposition of house-elf slavery. In order to break up a brewing fight between Percy and Hermione—both of which had always gotten along fairly well—Mrs. Weasley sent them up to their rooms, where Gwyn began opening the parcels that Mrs. Weasley had been kind enough to get for her, all of which included her new school supplies.

There was only one new book this year—_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_, by Miranda Goshawk—which surprised Gwyn slightly. They always had a heap of books on their lists. But then, she reasoned, first year was their beginning year, second-year they'd had an egotistical Defence teacher who wanted them all to have every single book that he'd ever written, and third-year, they had been starting new classes, so this really was the first year that they didn't need a load of new books.

Other than the new book—which some of the charms looked fascinating and Gwyn couldn't wait to try out—Mrs. Weasley had gotten Gwyn some new quills—good thing, too, because some of hers were starting to break around the middle—a bunch of parchment, and refills for her potion-making equipment.

Making a mental note to thank Mrs. Weasley for this later—along with doing her laundry—Gwyn began piling everything into her trunk, making sure that nothing was going to get broken as she opened up the last package and a soft gasp escaped from her as the most beautiful dress that she had ever seen spilled out from it.

Gwyn had never been the type of girl to worry about clothes and spend countless amounts of time thinking about what kind of clothes she was going to wear. Never mind the fact that she wore a school uniform. It just wasn't her thing. But she couldn't believe her eyes as she stared down at the gown, staring down at it in amazement.

The gown was a deep, royal purple made of velvet, so smooth that it was like touching glass and there were pearls all around the neckline. The sleeves were a lighter purple, almost lilac, and were bells, like the kind that noblewomen wore in the middle ages. Gwyn could hardly believe her eyes, couldn't imagine wearing anything this beautiful as she held it up to her chest, staring at her reflection in Ginny's mirror.

"Wow," Ginny breathed as she and Hermione caught sight of Gwyn in the mirror. Her brown eyes were huge on her face. "Gwyn, you look like a princess."

"I feel like a princess," Gwyn whispered, unable to believe that the girl in the mirror was really her as she spun around, still clutching the gown to her chest and swallowed, slowly lowering it away and reluctantly slipped it into her trunk, tucking it carefully into the contents of the trunk and snapped it closed.

Summer was coming to a close, she thought with a smile. At this time tomorrow, she would be at the Great Hall and eating the Welcoming Feast before she headed up to Gryffindor Tower and sleeping in her bed in the girls' dormitory.

This time tomorrow, she would be home.


	10. Onto the Hogwarts Express

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Ten: Onto the Hogwarts Express

The skies were dark and gloomy when Gwyn woke up the next morning with rain pattering against the windows. Groaning slightly, she ran her fingers through her blonde hair before she stumbled out of the cot that had been set up in Ginny's room, grabbing her clothes as she headed for the bathroom to get dressed and make sure that she had everything packed. Tabby was being extremely uncooperative as he had hidden underneath Ginny's bed and it took the combined efforts of Ginny and Gwyn to grab him, pulling him out and Gwyn forced him into his cage.

"Enough," she said sternly, peering at her cat reproachfully. "You know better than that. You're a grown cat, Tabby, and you'd better start acting like it. No," she said as he meowed, determined to be let out. "No, you're staying in there until we leave. I'm not going to chase you down again."

Setting the cage back onto the trunk and making sure that he had enough water and food, Gwyn headed downstairs, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she went.

By the time that she had gotten downstairs, Mr. Weasley was sitting in front of the fire, talking to . . .

Gwyn blinked and shook her head, trying to clear to make sure that she wasn't imagining things, but sure enough, when she looked again, Mr. Diggory's head was sitting in the fire.

Once she had gotten over this shock, she went into the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with breakfast while listening to the conversation between the two men. Apparently someone named Mad-Eye had caused a bunch of commotion the previous night when he thought that there was an intruder behind his house and set some dustbins on them. The police turned up eventually, alerted by the noise, and there was going to be a huge commotion with the Ministry.

Mr. Weasley hastily took notes of what had happened before he left to go take care of the mess. Gwyn looked towards Bill and Charlie as Mrs. Weasley left the room.

"Who is this guy?" she questioned, wracking her brains, but couldn't remember anyone named Mad-Eye and she was pretty sure that she would remember someone with that name.

"Mad-Eye Moody is an Auror," Charlie explained. "Or, well, he used to be, but he's retired now. He's an old friend of Dumbledore's. I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though . . . families of the people he caught, mainly . . . he's been getting paranoid in his old age, though, from what I've heard. Doesn't trust anybody anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."

"Hmm." Something about this made Gwyn feel as though there were something about this incident at Moody's than what they knew. Whatever it was, she wasn't entirely sure, but it made a chill go down her spine.

In order to get to the train station, they were loaded up into Muggle taxis, which was highly uncomfortable because not only were all of them jammed in the back with their trunks, but also a number of disturbances occurred during the journey, including one of the twins' fireworks going off halfway there.

Entering her fourth-year at Hogwarts, Gwyn was more than used to getting onto the platform to get to the Hogwarts Express, the train that they had to get on in order to get to the school. She, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went through first, because they were attracting the most attention—especially since Tabby had starting meowing ever so loudly, desperate to get out—and found a compartment halfway through the train and got back off to say goodbye to the others as they came through.

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," Charlie remarked as he hugged his sister. "Just don't tell Percy that I mentioned it . . . it's 'classified information until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"What are you talking about?" Gwyn queried, but he only grinned at her, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Yeah, I almost wish I was back at Hogwarts this year," Bill added.

"Why?" George demanded.

"You're going to have an interesting year," Bill replied. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it . . ."

"A bit of what?" Ron demanded.

Gwyn glanced back at the train as the whistle blew, signalling that they were about to leave. "Come on, guys, we'd better go," she said before looking at the matriarch of the Weasley clan. "Thanks for having us stay, Mrs. Weasley."

"Yes, thank you," Harry agreed.

"Oh, it was my pleasure, dears," she said, beaming at them. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but . . . well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with . . . one thing and another."

"Mum!" Ron complained. "What do you three know that we don't?"

"I expect you'll find out this evening," she answered her younger son, smiling secretively. "I daresay it's going to be very exciting—mind you, I'm very glad that they've changed the rules," she added, her expression changing to one of extreme relief.

"What rules?" Gwyn, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George asked.

"Professor Dumbledore will probably tell you all about it tonight. . . ." Mrs. Weasley assured them as she ushered them to the train, pushing them on board. "Now, behave, won't you? Fred, George?"

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred protested, ignoring his mother's imploring. He was halfway leaning out the window and Gwyn and George were holding him back to prevent him from falling out and ultimately to his death. "What rules are they changing?"

When she had managed to haul him back into the train and was sure he wasn't going to try and leap out again—even though the station was far away by now—Gwyn headed back to the compartment with her friends, barely closing the door when they all heard Draco Malfoy's voice.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore—the man's such a Mudblood-lover—and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says that Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually _learn_ them, not just the defence rubbish that we do here . . ."

Closest to the door, Hermione got up and shut the door so they wouldn't have to listen to him.

"So, he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said fiercely, her brown eyes flashing dangerously towards the door as she stalked back to her seat and returning to her position. "I wish he _had_ gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"Yes, but then we would have to deal with a Malfoy who actually knows Dark magic and can use those kinds of spells against us," Gwyn said placidly from where she was sitting half leaning against Harry. "Personally, I'd rather deal with him harassing us and being ignorant than have him go to another school where he can learn stuff that could make him dangerous."

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" Harry questioned, looking between the girls.

"Madeline mentioned it once," Gwyn said with a shrug. "She just said that it was a really bad school. My grandparents actually considered sending Mum there once they got wind that she was in Gryffindor. I don't know what happened with that," she mused. "But Madeline said that they're really into the Dark Arts."

"I think I've heard of it," Ron said carelessly. "Where is it? Which country?"

"Well, no one knows, do they?" Hermione said in her usual, well-informed tone. "There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all of the magical schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets."

Ron started to laugh at the very thought. "Come off it, Hermione. Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts—how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

"But Hogwarts _is_ hidden," Hermione pointed out, arching her eyebrows towards him, surprise written across her face. "Everybody knows that . . . well, everyone who has read _Hogwarts, A History_, anyway," she added, naming the book that was a complete history on their school. Hermione had read it so many times that she could probably recite it by heart . . . of course, she could do that with so many books that it was amazing she could keep them all straight.

Gwyn glanced up at Harry, both of them trying to hide a smile as Hermione and Ron continued their friendly banter. So far, it hadn't turned homicidal, so she wasn't going to intervene.

"Go on, then," Ron said. "How do you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

"It's bewitched," she answered. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a mouldering, old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."

"So Durmstrang will just look like a ruin to an outside, too?" Gwyn questioned.

"Maybe," Hermione said thoughtfully, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And in order to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they probably would make Unplottable—"

"Come again?" Harry asked.

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?" Hermione said in her usual, exasperated tone that she usually got whenever the boys didn't know something. Gwyn was rarely on the receiving end of this tone, but it did happen on occasion. "But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north, somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniform."

Ron got a dreamy look on his face when she said that. "Ah, just think about the possibilities. It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off of a glacier and make it look like an accident. . . . Shame his mother likes him. . . ." he added with a grin.

Gwyn snorted just as two figures past by the compartment and she glanced towards her cousins Alaric and Morgause Toren as they walked past, though the younger of the two siblings looked her way as she smirked at Gwyn, who only watched her go. She had long given up having any kind of relationship with either of her cousins or having a good contact with her mother's family. In fact, she was pretty sure that if Voldemort ever came back, then they would meet each other on the battlefield.

But still . . . during second-year when they were in the Chamber of Secrets and Gwyn had been knocked unconscious, she'd had a vision of Morgause and the Morgause in her vision hadn't acted at all like the girl that she was when she was awake. Gwyn wondered sometimes if that vision was just a false hope or if there was still hope for Morgause. It pained her to admit it, but she hoped it was the latter. It would be nice to have some family that acknowledged her. She loved her friends, but they just weren't the same as blood relatives.

The rain was coming down so hard and the skies were so dark that the lanterns were lit just a little after the lunch trolley came by. Gwyn, extremely partial to Chocolate Frogs, bought a stack of them. Not to mention, they came with cards with famous witches and wizards on them, which were helpful when it came to studying for History of Magic, which, along with Herbology, was one of the two subjects she was bad at.

Seamus and Dean came in sometime during the afternoon, followed by Neville Longbottom, another of their Gryffindor fourth-years. Gwyn liked Neville; they had always gotten along very well and he was also her Herbology tutor when it came to finals while she was his Charms and Potions tutor. Although he was dreadful at spells and potions and history, he excelled at Herbology. She probably could have gotten Hermione's help in studying, but she preferred to stick with Neville. Plus, she thought that having him tutor her was good for his self-esteem.

The minute the boys came in, the talk instantly turned to the World Cup, which Gwyn didn't mind so much, but when she glanced over at Hermione, she saw that her brilliant friend had buried her nose into her _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_.

"Gran didn't want to go," Neville said jealously. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing, though."

"It was," Ron said with a happy grin. "Look at this, Neville . . ." He dug out the figurine of Krum and let Neville take it. "We saw him up close as well. We were in the Top Box—"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley," a new voice said. Gwyn sighed as she looked around at Malfoy, flanked as usual by his two friends Crabbe and Goyle, two of the most dim-witted boys that Gwyn had ever laid eyes upon.

"You know, Malfoy, it's considered polite it most societies to be invited into a conversation and not just barge in," she informed him, stealthily making sure her wand was on her in case she needed to break up a fight.

Or join it. She wasn't too sure which one at this point.

Malfoy ignored her as his silver eyes fastened on something by Ron's trunk and a malicious smile formed across his face. "Weasley . . . what is that?" he asked, pointing. Gwyn caught sight of a hint of maroon as he grasped it easily and pulled it into view.

Gwyn grimaced as she saw the thing that was in Ron's trunk, which was a pair of dress robes that looked as though they were at least a century old, complete with lace collars and sleeves, to which the lace had turned brown due to age.

Malfoy was howling with delight as he held them up for everyone to see. "Look at this! Weasley, you weren't thinking of _wearing_ these, were you? I mean—they were very fashionable in about eighteen-ninety. . . ."

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" Ron snarled, snatching them back as Malfoy continued to howl with laughter and even his cronies had begun to snicker. But that was really all they ever did; Gwyn wasn't even sure if she had actually ever heard Crabbe and Goyle speak.

"So . . . going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know . . . you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won . . ."

"What are you talking about?" Ron demanded as Gwyn and Harry exchanged bewildered looks, wondering what Malfoy could possibly be talking about.

"_Are you going to enter?_" Malfoy said slowly and carefully, as though Ron were not quite bright. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Malfoy, either explain what you're talking about or go away," Gwyn told him. "Because I for one would like to enjoy my last few hours where I don't have to put up with you living in the same castle as I am." Although the boys chuckled, Malfoy's grin became so huge that it was in danger of dropping off of the sides of his face.

"Don't tell me that you don't _know_," he said in delight. "You've got a father and a brother in the Ministry and you don't even _know_? Swann, isn't your guardian in the Department of Magical Sports and Games? She hasn't even told you? My god, my father told me about it ages ago . . . heard about it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry. . . . Maybe they're too junior to know about it . . . yes . . . they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him . . ."

Malfoy was doubling over with laughter as he and his cronies left. Gwyn could hear their laughter all the way down the corridor.

Ron slammed the door so hard after they left that the glass shattered to pieces. Gwyn shifted her position to move her feet away from the floor so she didn't accidentally step on any glass.

"_Ron!_" Hermione said disapprovingly, drawing out her wand and flicking it towards the glass. "_Reparo!_"

Automatically, the glass shards lifted back into the glass pane and fitted themselves into the right place, sliding back together as though they had never been broken without a single nick in the glass.

"He's always making it look like he knows everything and we don't," Ron said, his temper getting the better of him. "_Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry_ . . . Dad could have got a promotion any time . . . he just likes it were he is. . . ."

"So what's the deal with you two?" Seamus asked, looking at Harry and Gwyn now, who were sitting in a very comfortable, very intimate position, with her wrapped in his arms and her head leaning on his shoulder. "Are you two an item or something?"

Harry grinned at him. "What do you think?" he asked mischievously and Seamus's eyes grew very big as the particular piece of information made its way into his brain.

"Congratulations!" Neville said happily, grinning at Gwyn and Harry.

Gwyn smiled at him. "Thanks, Nev," she said. Very quietly to her boyfriend, she whispered, "You know that they're going to tell Lavender and Parvati." Harry nodded, grinning. "And those two are going to have it all over the school before the end of the Feast."

"Oh, yeah," Harry agreed under his breath. "But at least it'll get it over with and we won't have people staring at us for weeks on end." Gwyn chuckled; being famous before he had even entered Hogwarts had pretty much guaranteed that Harry didn't want any more publicity than he already got.

As the day slowly started to descend into twilight and they approached the castle, they changed into their robes as the train came to a complete stop. Once they got off of the train, they ran through the rain for the carriages that would take them up to the castle, waving hello to Hagrid, gamekeeper and Care of the Magical Creatures teacher, as he collected the first-years and ushered them into the boats.

"Oh, I do not envy the first-years this year," Gwyn said, eyeing the boats as she climbed into the much drier carriages. "They'll be soaked through when they got to the castle."

She looked towards the castle as they approached it, feeling warm despite the cold rain. She was finally home.


	11. The Tournament

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Eleven: The Tournament

By the time that they got up to the castle, they were already soaked through and Gwyn was shivering violently, trying to warm her hands and failing miserably. Before they could enter the Great Hall, however, they were under attack by Peeves, the school poltergeist, who was intent on making them even wetter than they already were by throwing water balloons onto them. Gwyn was forever grateful that she had the Sight and therefore had the foresight to dive out of the way before they hit her.

Gwyn squeezed out her hair as it clung to her robes and face, plastering itself onto her. "Oh, I cannot wait to go up to the dormitory and get a nice hot shower," she moaned, helplessly trying to comb out her hair with her fingers and failing miserably.

"Forget that, I just want the feast to start, I'm starved," Ron said as Harry dumped water out of his sneakers.

"You're always starved; what else is new? Hey, Nick," she added, smiling at the Gryffindor House ghost, Sir Nicholas or as he was more commonly referred to, Nearly Headless Nick. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you, Lady Guinevere," he said with a smile at her. "Good evening."

"Says who?" Harry asked as he blinked water out of his eyes. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting; I'm starving."

"Harry, come on, lighten up, this is the first Sorting Ceremony that you've been to since ours," Gwyn reminded him. "I mean, first you and Ron had to crash Mr. Weasley's car into the Whomping Willow . . . they McGonagall made you miss it last year because of the dementors . . . and who knows, next year, you might miss it too."

"I didn't say that I wasn't looking forward to it," he replied with a grin at her. Gwyn shook her head at her boyfriend as she spotted someone coming up behind them. "What?"

"Colin," she said with a grin, suppressing a laugh behind her hand. Third-year Colin Creevey had always held Harry in somewhat of an idolatry, never resisting the opportunity to talk to him, follow him around, and take his picture when he had the camera ready. Gwyn, on more than one opportunity, had conspired with Fred and George to hide the camera. She generally used them for this because a, they never turned down a good prank and b, they were much taller than she was and could therefore put the camera on much higher shelves than she could.

As Colin approached Harry and automatically started chattering away, Gwyn looked towards the staff table, seeing the familiar faces of the teachers. Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, was with the first-years as she usually was. Gwyn's favourite teacher, Professor Flitwick, who taught Charms, sat on a large pile of books because he was so short and sitting next to the Arthimancy teacher Professor Vector. Professor Sprout with Herbology was speaking with the astrology teacher Professor Sinistra, who was sitting next to the quartet's least favourite teacher, Professor Snape. Snape had been at school with Gwyn's mother and Harry's parents and he hated Harry with a loathing and disliked Gwyn for something her mother had done when she was in school with him. But as his eyes flashed towards the two, Gwyn was sure that his hatred of them had pretty much intensified since the last year, because just when Snape had been about to turn Sirius into the dementors and be declared a hero, Gwyn and her friends had Stunned him, therefore stopping him and then Gwyn had the vision of Professor Lupin, their former Defence the Dark Arts teacher, transforming into a werewolf and Pettigrew escaping, allowing them to leave Lupin behind, go up to the castle and clear Sirius's name.

At the very centre of the table sat the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore, who was staring up at the ceiling in deep thought. But try as she might, she didn't see . . .

"Who's the new Defence teacher?" she questioned, looking back at her friends, who looked over at the table the moment that she asked. "I don't see anybody new, do you?"

Hermione shook her head, frowning as she too studied the table, but then the doors opened and any more talk was ceased as the first-years began herding into the Great Hall, staring all around them with frightful looks on their faces as they moved to the front of the hall, where the Sorting Hat was brought out and Gwyn waited for the Hat as it opened its brim and began to sing.

_A thousand years or more, _

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young sorcerers_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their house for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favourites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worth ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

'_Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_He whipped me off his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

With a small smile, Gwyn watched as the first-years were called up one-by-one to try on the hat, applauding when each new Gryffindor was announced and they ran to join the red and gold table. Over at the Slytherin table, she could see Morgause sneering at her from where she was sitting next to Malfoy.

"Those two will make a perfect match," Ron said darkly, following her gaze towards Malfoy and Morgause.

"Don't say that," Gwyn implored him. "If those two end up together, then I'll actually be related to Malfoy. I don't think I could stand the humiliation." Both Ron and Harry had to duck under the table to stifle their laughter as the Sorting continued on and only came back when they managed to stop, though both of them were still grinning wildly.

When the Sorting Ceremony came to a close, Dumbledore got to his feet, opening his arms to welcome the older students back and to welcome the new students to Hogwarts. "I have only two words to say to you," he told them. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear," the boys chorused as the food magically appeared on the table. The Chocolate Frogs from the trolley seemed like years away as Gwyn loaded up her own plate, taking a few samples of her favourite, but leaving plenty of room for dessert.

Ron moaned in contentment as he ate while Nick looked longingly at them, clearly missing the taste of food, but being a ghost, he neither could nor needed to eat. "You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," he informed them as Gwyn took a sip from her goblet. "There was trouble in the kitchen earlier."

"Why?" Harry asked with his mouth full with food. "What happened?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Gwyn admonished. Harry made a face at her and she only gave him an innocent look before looking back at Nick. "What happened with the kitchens?"

"Peeves, of course," Nick answered, pulling the ruffles around the neckline a little higher. When he had been beheaded, the executioner hadn't done a clean job of it, leaving an inch of skin attached, which meant that he wasn't as headless as some other ghost were. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast—well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilised, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council—the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance—but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

Like Nick, the Bloody Baron was one of the House ghosts, only his House was Slytherin, but he was the only person at Hogwarts that was able to control Peeves.

"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," Ron acknowledged, scowling. "What did he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh, the usual," Nick answered. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits—" He had no sooner said the words 'house-elves' than Hermione knocked over her goblet in shock.

"House-elves?" she repeated, looking extremely horrified and dismayed. "There are house elves _here_? Here at _Hogwarts_?"

"Certainly," Nick answered, surprised. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!"

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they? They come out at night to be a bit of cleaning . . . see to the fireplaces and so on. . . . I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it? That you don't know that it's there?"

"But they get paid, don't they? They get holidays? And sick leave and pensions and everything?"

Sir Nicholas seemed so amused by her words that he accidentally knocked his head off and it hovered sideways before he righted it, still chuckling. "Sick leave and pensions?" he repeated. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

And that was all that it took for Hermione to set aside her silverware and refuse to take another bite of it. "Slave labour," she said, looking very hard at the food. "That's what made this dinner. _Slave labour_."

Gwyn shared a look with Harry. She loved Hermione to bits, but her friend could be extremely stubborn about some things and this was one of them. But there was other ways of dealing with house-elf rights than starving one's self. Like writing an article to the _Daily Prophet_, as she had suggested Hermione do after the World Cup incident.

The main course finally cleared away, replaced with dessert, which Gwyn immediately got a sample of chocolate pudding before they were cleared away.

Once dinner had been completed, Dumbledore got to his feet and the chatter died away instantly so the only sound that was audible in the hall was the howling wind and pounding rain, visible by the enchanted ceiling that hovered above them.

"So, now that we're all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle this year has been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list compromises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it. As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third-year."

"Good thing you've got permission this year," Gwyn muttered to Harry, who grinned. Last year, he had continuously snuck to Hogsmeade because he had been in his aunt and uncle's custody last year and they'd refused to sign permission.

And they would be extremely lucky if they _avoided_ going into the Forbidden Forest this year. They'd already ended up there twice and with Gwyn's visions, she was worried about what this year might bring.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year," Dumbledore added. He had to pause because of the cries of outrage that had burst out from the Hall, including Harry, Fred, and George.

Once silence had fell upon the hall, he continued, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure that you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

Before he could finish, the doors to the Great Hall sprung open and Gwyn's head snapped around towards the man who entered, her mouth dropping open as her blue eyes fell upon him.

Every inch of his face was covered in scars, there were pieces of his skin that were missing, and his skin seemed leathery and weathered. One of his legs had a wooden one in its place, but it was eyes that made Gwyn cringe. He had one that was very normal-looking, but the other one was bigger than a normal eye and moved on its own, turning in ways that were unnatural for eyes to move in, such as the back of his head.

But that wasn't what bothered Gwyn the most. Once she got over the shock of his appearance, she felt a chill go down her spine and her seer senses were tingling, as though warning her about this man. There was something off about him, something not quite right . . .

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore asked once the man had reached him and joined the staff table after speaking quietly to him. "Professor Moody."

Everyone else seemed just as stunned as Gwyn by his appearance, so there was little applause when he was introduced, but Harry looked at Ron quickly as soon as Dumbledore said the name.

"Moody?" he whispered to the redheaded wizard. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Has to be," Gwyn whispered. "Didn't Mr. Diggory mention that he was supposed to start a new job today?" She was pretty sure that she remembered Mr. Diggory saying something like that during those moments when his head had been sitting in the fire.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, drawing the attention back to him, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held in over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred said loudly, causing the ice to break and nearly everyone laughed. Dumbledore smiled in appreciation, not at all bothered by the interruption.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley," he said appreciatively, "although now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go to a bar. . . . Er . . . maybe this is not the time, no . . ." Dumbledore said as McGonagall cleared her throat, giving him a pointed look. "Where was I? oh, yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Well, some of you do not know what this tournament involves, so hope those of you who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago," he began to explain, "as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years and it was generally agreed the most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered. Gwyn shared an alarmed look with her friend before looking back at Dumbledore, shaking her head. Why would they start something that had risked so many students' lives and killed a great deal of them?

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October and the selection of the three champions will take place on Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and the thousand Galleons personal prize money.

"Eager though I know you are to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he added as Fred and George exchanged equal grins of eagerness, "the heads of the participating schools along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed o impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen or older—will be allowed to put their names for consideration." Dumbledore had to raise his voice now, because several students had raised their voices in outrage. "This is a measure that we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to taste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and will remain with us for the greater part of the year. I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop, chop!"

"They can't do that!" George complained as he glared at Dumbledore while most of the other students headed towards the door. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me from entering," Fred said, mirroring his twin's look at the table. "The champions will get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Come on," Hermione said as Ron got a dreamy look on his face at the thought of that much money. "We'll be the only left if you don't move."

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry questioned.

Gwyn shrugged. "I don't know, but I doubt that either of you will be able to figure out a way around Dumbledore's rules," she said with a grin at the twins. "Don't you think that he's probably thought of every way that you're going to try and get around it? And he's probably made sure that there's no possibly way that you will be able to fool this judge? I doubt that an Aging Potion is going to work, guys," she added pointedly.

Fred and George stared at her, then at each other, then back at her. Gwyn gave them a sweet smile as she climbed up the stairs.

"How do you do that?" Fred demanded.

"She's a seer," Ron said placidly.

"RON!" Gwyn, Harry, and Hermione yelled and the blonde witch walked back down the stairs, proceeding to slap Ron in the back of the head.

"What have I told you?" Gwyn said severely as he yelped and massaged the back of his head painfully. "You're not allowed to tell anybody unless I say that they're allowed to know."

"Oh, it's not like they wouldn't figure it out," Ron complained as Harry gave his best friend a look. "She does it all the time with them around."

"So not the point," Gwyn muttered before looking at the twins, who looked awestruck. "Can't you do something about him? You're supposed to be his big brothers."

"If we could have, we'd done it at the age of three," Fred said with an evil grin at her. "So a seer . . ."

Gwyn stopped so suddenly and gave them a look that sent them both cowering under her fierce gaze. "If either of you tell anybody, I swear, I will not rest until I find the most painful curse that I can find and cast it upon the two of you with disastrous results if you try and remove it," she threatened. "And no, I'm not going to tell you your future. I can't see everything."

"You saw me about to ask, though," George said pointedly after he closed his mouth just as he was about to ask.

"No, that was just me knowing the two of you too well," Gwyn said calmly, shaking her head as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Did anybody happen to get the password?"

"Yeah, Balderdash," George replied as the portrait swung open, admitting them into the Gryffindor Tower.

As Hermione disappeared through the girls' dormitories, Gwyn looked at her boyfriend. "Good night," she said softly.

"Night," Harry replied with a smile as he kissed her, causing Fred and George to wolf-whistle at them. Gwyn ignored them as she embraced the kiss before reluctantly pulling away and waving goodbye to the three Weasleys, following Hermione up the stairs.

Tabby was already on her pillow when she reached her own bed next to the window, where her trunk was already next to. "What am I going to do with you?" she complained, stroking his head. He opened his mouth widely and yawned at her.

Gwyn snorted as she opened her trunk, grabbing her things and dressing in the bathroom before she picked up Tabby and crawled into bed with him in her arms.

She was very glad to be home.


	12. Malfoy the Ferret

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Twelve: Malfoy the Ferret

The next morning was still cloudy, though the storm itself had left the grounds. Gwyn woke up to find Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown already up and already at the latest gossip—which unfortunately, included her and Harry now being an item. She made a quick exit by disappearing into the bathroom and then heading downstairs to go to the Great Hall, where her friends were already waiting for her.

"So, what's on the schedule for today?" she asked as Professor McGonagall passed Gwyn her schedule and she scanned it carefully. "Herbology, Care of the Magical Creatures . . . cool, Arthimancy this afternoon, Hermione," she said, grinning at her friend. Arthimancy was one of Hermione's favourite subjects, which Gwyn was also signed up for. It was the one class that they had together without the boys. And along with Charms and Potions—something that still caused Harry and Ron to look at her like she had grown two heads on account of who the teacher was—it was one of her favourite subjects, too.

"We'll be in Divination," Harry said with a groan. Gwyn chuckled; apparently, the Divination teacher Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry's death about once a week. Gwyn had opted for Arthimancy instead of Divination and Trelawney rarely left her tower, so she had only met the teacher once, when she had attended the Christmas party last year, but she hadn't predicted Harry's death then; rather, she had said the first to rise from the table would be the first to die and she, Ron, and Harry had all been the ones who had gotten up from the table first, but since nothing had happened to any of them since then, Gwyn was inclined to agree that most of what she said wasn't predictions, though she regardless did have some seeing capabilities, if Dumbledore hired her for the Divination teacher.

"You should have just given up it up like me, shouldn't you?" Hermione said reasonably. Gwyn cocked an eyebrow as she noticed Hermione buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be taking something sensible like Arthimancy."

"You're eating again, I notice," Ron said, eyeing her toast.

"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," Hermione said haughtily.

"Oh, did you decide to write a paper for the _Daily Prophet_?" Gwyn asked in interest. "Let me know if you decide to send it in; I think Madeline's got a friend or somebody who's in one of the departments there and she could pass your article along."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, I might take you up on that," she said as she returned to her toast.

Herbology was, to be perfectly honest, one of Gwyn's worst subjects, but ever since she had gotten Neville to tutor her in it, she had gotten better at it, plus it had done wonders for his ego, which was a bonus. But upon seeing the plant that they were supposed to be working with, Gwyn almost wished that she had failed the class last semester, just so she wouldn't have to be working with the horrific thing.

Unfortunately, she had, so she had no excuse to get out of squeezing the pus out of the Bubotubers, so Gwyn pulled on her dragon hide gloves and did as Professor Sprout instructed. It was, by far, the most disgusting thing that she had ever dealt with in Herbology and she had dealt with plants that she would have preferred not to. She still didn't understand why Neville liked this class so much.

After Herbology, they headed down the wet slope towards Hagrid's hut, where their Care of the Magical Creatures was. Unfortunately, they had these classes with the Slytherins, but thankfully, Morgause was in a year above Gwyn, so she didn't have to deal with her cousin. Unfortunately, Malfoy_ was_ in her year, so she had to put up with him for that lesson.

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, beaming at them as they gathered around. Fang, his enormous boarhound, was nearby, with Hagrid holding onto his collar to hold him back and several crates lay open at his feet, which Fang was apparently trying to get to, curious as to the contents of them. Gwyn exchanged a look with Harry as she heard small explosions coming from the crates. "Be'en wait for the Slytherins, they won' want to miss this—Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" Ron said and Hagrid pointed towards the crates, which held about a hundred creatures that smelled like rotten fish and were slimy, pale, deformed little creatures.

Gwyn loved Hagrid to bits and nothing but utter respect and affection for him could have made her even move closer to those things and pick up the frog liver to try and feed them. She had to yank her hand back on more than one occasion to prevent being burned or stung, but most of her classmates weren't as lucky as she was, as a few of them left the class with bite marks or burns. And of course, as usual, Malfoy had to open his mouth, which was always something malicious.

"Well, I can _certainly_ see why we're trying to keep them alive," he commented sarcastically, looking at Hagrid like one would a bug, a sneer written on his face. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

Gwyn hated to agree with Malfoy; really, she did, but she couldn't help but feel as though he had a point. The skrewts looked as though they were going to crawl out of the crates and attack the lot of them at any moment. Hagrid was one of the best people that she knew, she had known him for three years and he was a wonderful teacher, but she could live without his fascination with monsters that sucked blood.

"Just because they're not pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped at Malfoy, much to Gwyn's relief. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

That shut Malfoy up and Gwyn grinned at Hagrid, who was smiling; Hagrid absolutely loved dragons and would've loved to have one for a pet—which he had, a few years ago, which they had sent to Ron's brother Charlie after he was discovered.

"Well, at least the skrewts are small," Ron reasoned an hour later when they were heading up to the Great Hall for lunch.

"They are _now_," Hermione pointed out in exasperation. "But once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."

"Probably longer," Gwyn agreed, hoisting her bag higher onto her shoulder.

"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" Ron teased the girls.

Hermione gave him a look that would have seen a braver man than Ronald Weasley quailing. "You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up. As a matter of fact, I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all."

"I think Hagrid might frown upon that," Gwyn pointed as she sat down at the table and began to help herself to some food. "Once they're the size of Fluffy, I think that's when we should start worrying, but right now, all we have to do is worry about getting our hands burned off. Hermione, what are you doing?" she asked as Hermione began to shovel her food into her mouth like she was in a race to finish quickly.

Hermione swallowed quickly and said, "I want to get to the library," before she shoved more food into her mouth.

"What?" Ron said in disbelief. "Hermione, it's the first day back! We haven't even gotten any homework."

This clearly didn't bother Hermione much, because she just continued to eat just as quickly as she had, then jumped to her feet when she was done. "See you in Arthimancy, Gwyn," she said. "See you two at dinner." Then she raced out of the hall, heading for the library.

Harry and Ron stared at each other, then looked at Gwyn as though she could explain why Hermione was acting like a lunatic.

"Don't look at me," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know what that was all about."

Harry shook his head and the conversation instantly turned to Quidditch while Gwyn glanced up towards the teacher's table, where Professor Moody was conversing with McGonagall.

She couldn't explain it, exactly, but there was just something about him that made her uneasy. And she couldn't explain it, not even to herself, why she felt so strongly about this, but just the mere sight of him sent chills down her spine. It felt almost like a vision that just wouldn't come out, that she could sense in the back of her mind, but she couldn't pull it to the forefront.

Gwyn wished she understood what it meant, understood what this could mean, but she didn't have long to brood on it, because lunch was over before she could think on it too long. Mentally, she made a note to go back to her mother's diary later and try and see if her mother had ever sensed anything like this before. Maybe she would know how to handle it.

Harry and Ron headed off to Divination and Gwyn headed towards Arthimancy, meeting up with Hermione halfway there. "So, what exactly did you need to do in the library?"

"Research on house-elf rights," Hermione said at once. "I can't believe that nobody's done anything like this before, but there hasn't been much justice as far as elves are concerned. You should see what I found," she said and launched into a talk about the injustice of house elves all the way until they reached Arthimancy and continued to prattle on until Professor Vector started class, which luckily, they received no homework for, unlike Harry and Ron, who had a ton of it when they emerged from Divination. Ron looked quite grumpy about this fact, but fortunately, he was immediately cheered up by the events that came as they were heading towards dinner, which while they started off bad, escalated quickly.

Malfoy was waiting for them near the entrance hall, with an evil grin on his wicked face, a paper in hand.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" he informed Ron, who scowled at the very sight of Malfoy. His silver eyes were gleaming dangerously and Gwyn had half a mind to walk right over to him and rip the paper out of his hands and give him a good knock upside the head, but there was a chance that a teacher could emerge from the Great Hall at any time, so she just made sure her wand was within reach.

"Listen to this," he crowed, raising his voice so that every single person in the entrance hall could hear him.

"_It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end,_ writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent._ Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office._"

Malfoy was gleaming as he paused in his reading. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he said, taking pleasure as Ron's hands clenched into fists before continuing on, reading loud enough that ever single person in the entrance hall could hear him:

_"Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer _Daily Prophet_ questions about why he involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene._

"And there's a picture, Weasley! A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

"Get lost, Malfoy," Gwyn snapped at him. "Let's go, guys." She made an attempt to move them towards the Great Hall, but as usual, Malfoy had to open up his mouth again.

"That's right, Swann, you've been to Weasley's house, haven't you, Swann?" Malfoy said, sneering at her. "SO tell me, is his mother really that porky or is just the picture?"

Gwyn had to grab hold of Ron with Hermione to prevent him from attacking Malfoy, otherwise she probably would have turned Malfoy's hair the most vibrant shade of pink that she could think of, which would have been hilarious, but she had her hands full.

Thankfully, Harry retorted, "You know _your_ mother, Malfoy? That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that or was it just because _you _were with her?"

Gwyn grinned at her boyfriend as Malfoy flushed in embarrassment and scowled at Harry, his silver gaze flashing dangerously, warningly. "Don't insult my mother, Potter."

"Why don't you keep your mouth shut, then?" Gwyn said, her voice as sweet as honey. With Hermione's help, she pulled Ron away from Malfoy enough so that they could steer him into the Great Hall, but before she could take a step, she felt rather than heard the enormous blast that echoed throughout the hall.

Letting go of Ron, she grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back just in time to avoid the spell that Malfoy had shot at him and was about to launch a spell back at him, but someone else beat her to it as a second blast reverberated throughout the hall.

And less than a second later, a voice roared, "OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Gwyn looked around, spotting Professor Moody heading straight towards them, his wand pointed directly at where Malfoy had been standing . . . at least, a few seconds before, that's where he'd been. Now, there was a pure-white ferret in its place.

A giggle escaped from her as she realised who the ferret was and she covered her mouth to stifle the noise, but fortunately, she was not the only one who was laughing. There were quite a few people around her laughing right along with her as Moody stepped further into the entrance hall, limping towards the ferret.

With a terrified squeak, Malfoy the ferret took flight, about to head towards the dungeons, no doubt to alert Snape to what was going on, but Moody didn't let him get that far.

"I don't think so!" Moody barked, pointing his wand at the ferret, causing him to fly up and down, hitting the floor with a smack before rising back up again. Moody didn't seem to show any signs of letting Malfoy go or turning him back into his human form. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back is turned. Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do . . ." he muttered darkly as he continued bouncing the ferret, who was helpless to do any kind of self-preservation. "Never—do—that—again—"

Gwyn was sure that she was red in the face from trying to hold back her laughter, but it immediately faded as she saw another teacher coming down the staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," Moody said, not at all bothered by seeing her, just continued bouncing the ferret.

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall said, staring at the ferret. "What—what are you doing?"

"Teaching."

"Teach—is that a _student_?" McGonagall demanded. The books dropped out of her hands as she started hurrying forward, a horrified look written on her face.

"Yep."

"No!" McGonagall had her wand out now and pointed it directly at the ferret, returning him to the human form of Draco Malfoy.

But Gwyn thought, it was still worth it. Never before had she seen Malfoy so red in the face, nor seen him where his sleek blond hair was now falling into his face and while she still felt eerie about Moody, she had to admit that the experience was worth seeing Malfoy like that.

While McGonagall was lecturing Moody about the proper etiquette when it came to punishing students, Malfoy was getting to his feet, wincing and muttering something that sounded distinctively like "my father."

"Oh, yeah?" Moody walked directly towards Malfoy, both of his unmatched eyes focused on him. "Well, I know your father of old, boy. . . . You tell him Moody's keeping a close watch on his son . . . you tell him that from me. . . . Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it? Another old friend . . . I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. . . . Come on, you. . . ."

Gwyn could hardly stop smiling as they headed into the Great Hall for dinner; the entertainment that they had witnessed before had been priceless and around them, people were whispering about what they had just seen, laughing echoing around them.

Ron was trying to imprint the memory in his mind forever with Hermione completely ruining it by telling him that it was good that McGonagall had stopped it when she did, otherwise he could have really hurt Malfoy.

"I doubt it," another voice spoke up, coming from behind them. "Malfoy's skull is thicker than the walls in the dungeons, so basically, it's impossible for him to get any kind of brain damage, which is a bit unfortunately, because I've really wanted to try out that Memory Charm on him."

With a laugh, Gwyn turned around to grin at Tristan Bennett as he walked up, taking a seat next to Gwyn.

Tristan was a year older than they were, in his fifth-year of school, and he was in Slytherin House. Gwyn had been pretty surprised when she learned that fact, but he wasn't like the rest of his house. Actually, he was pretty nice, but didn't really get along with the rest of his house because most of them were on that pure-blood hype and Tristan, as far as anybody knew, was Muggle-born.

Actually, even Tristan himself didn't know if that was true, but he had been raised in an orphanage in London, taken there by some man whom he assumed had been his father and never heard from again. All that the man had told the orphanage was that his name was Tristan, not a word about his surname or who his parents were. Gwyn had tried to see who his parents were with her visions, but she seemed to have developed a block around this, preventing her from helping him.

"Hey, Tristan," Harry said, grinning at the Slytherin. Despite the prejudice that they had about Slytherins, her friends actually got along moderately well with Tristan, even invited him to sit with them during Quidditch games.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" Tristan said, grinning back at them. "How was your guys' summers?"

"Not bad," Gwyn said, shrugging. "Evil dad, stepmom trying to smooth things over with us again . . ."

"So basically, nothing out of the ordinary?" Tristan said, a gleam in his dark grey eyes.

"Basically," Gwyn agreed. "How was your first day?"

"Not too bad, but the teachers are piling it on this year," Tristan commented, rolling his eyes. "Just so you guys know, don't look forward to next year, because the O.W.L. year is going to be pretty awful. It's only the first day and I'm not looking forward to it."

"Thanks for the warning," Ron grumbled. "Couldn't you have waited until next year to tell us that instead of ruining this year with me worrying about it?"

"I could, but this was way more fun," Tristan replied, grinning. "Anyway, Professor Flitwick informed us that he's going to be having a test next week and I was really hoping that a certain genius Charms student would help me."

"That's Gwyn, all right," Harry said, giving her a look. She blushed at the attention, trying to hide her red face in her golden hair, but it didn't do much good. "Don't be embarrassed, Gwyn, it's great that you're really good at it that fifth-years want your help."

"You're unbelievable," Gwyn mumbled, still red as she looked at Tristan. "All right, you want to meet up Saturday, say ten o'clock in the library? What's the test on, is it written or practical?"

"Written," Tristan answered.

"All right, we'll meet in the library and go over some of the spells, make sure that you know what you need to," Gwyn told him.

"Great! Thanks," Tristan said, grinning at her. "You know, if I'd known that you were gonna be this helpful, then I might have started talking to you years ago. I suck at Charms."

"Yeah, but you're one of the best students in the school when it comes to Transfiguration," Gwyn pointed out.

"Good point," Tristan agreed. "But thanks, I owe you one."

"You know, a year ago, if somebody told me that I'd be hanging out with a Slytherin and actually not minding his company, I would have told them that they were crazy," Gwyn commented, causing the boys to laugh. Hermione shook her head, but continued to shovel down her food again.

Tristan watched her curiously. "You do know it's not a race to finish dinner first, right?" he asked cautiously.

"She has to get to the library," Gwyn said, shrugging as Hermione finished up her dinner and left at top speed.

"What's she doing?" Harry asked wonderingly.

"Apparently, she's looking up house-elf rights," Gwyn told him. "That's what she said that she was doing, anyway." Ron made a face as he heard that, but he didn't get a chance to say that Hermione was crazy or something, because Fred and George came up, followed by Lee Jordan.

"Moody!" Fred said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," George said.

"Supercool," Lee agreed. "We had him this afternoon," he added, looking at the others.

"What was it like?" Harry questioned eagerly.

"Never had a lesson like it," Fred said, speaking hushed, like he were talking about something of great importance.

"He _knows_, man," Lee whispered.

"Knows what?" Ron demanded.

"Knows what it's like to be out there _doing_ it," George answered.

"Doing what?" Harry asked.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," Fred told them.

"He's seen it all," George said.

Gwyn shrugged. "So what? We've been fighting the Dark Arts for three years now," she pointed out. The twins gave her a look and Lee grinned. "What? It's true. You'd probably be qualified to teach a Defence class," she added, looking at Harry.

"That's a good point," Tristan acknowledged, but Ron just dived for his schedule, consulting it.

"We haven't got him until Thursday!" he complained.


	13. Visions of the Past

Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Thirteen: Vision of the Past

The next few days were relatively quiet, compared to their first day back at school, and while the boys were eagerly awaiting the first lesson from Professor Moody, Gwyn found herself uneasy as their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson approached. She couldn't explain, even to herself, why she distrusted Moody so much, considering she'd never even been in the same room with him, but since discovering her seer capabilities, Gwyn had accepted not banishing any particularly strong feelings without proof.

So it took all of her energy to proceed into the Defence room, thoroughly wishing that Professor Lupin was still teaching the class, and take one of the seats right in front with her friends—Hermione showed up at the very last moment—and waited for Moody to show up.

It wasn't hard to miss him. With his strange appearance and the clunking that came with his walk, Gwyn heard him coming long before he opened up the door and entered the classroom, immediately ordering them to put away their books before he began the roll call.

She noticed that his magical eye trained itself on her when he called her name, his normal one narrowed slightly, but he didn't miss a beat as he proceeded to the next person. Still, throughout the name call, he kept his magical eye on her. Despite the September weather, Gwyn shivered slightly.

"Right then," Moody said when he finished the roll call. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough ground in tackling Dark creatures—you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, isn't that correct? But you're behind, very behind, on dealing with curses. So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to one another. I've got one years to teach you how to deal with Dark—"

"What, aren't you staying?" Ron demanded, causing Moody's magical eye, focused intently on Gwyn, to spin around to look at Ron.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" he asked. "Your father got me out of a very tight spot a few days ago. . . . Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favour to Dumbledore. . . . One year and then it's back to my quiet retirement." He chuckled. "So—straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope and I say the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking," he added.

Glancing behind her, Gwyn noticed Lavender showing Parvati her horoscope underneath the table.

So . . . the magical eye could not only see out of the back of his head, but it could also see straight through solid wood, Gwyn thought as she turned her head back to its original position, back to what Moody was teaching. That was interesting to know . . . and a bit worrisome. Although, she had to admit that with the feelings that she was getting about him, she would be worried even if he had two normal-looking eyes.

Pushing those particular thoughts out of her head, Gwyn focused on the lesson as Moody asked, "So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

A few hands went up, including Hermione's and to Gwyn's great surprise, Ron's. She had rarely seen him offer up information during a class, but Moody called on him and Ron said, "My dad told me about one . . . he called it the Imperius Curse or something?"

"Yes . . . your father would know all about that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time. Maybe this will show you why," he said maliciously.

Walking over to his desk, Moody retrieved a glass jar with three large black spiders residing within it, capturing one in the palm of his hand and pulling it out. Withdrawing his wand, he pointed it at the spider. "_Imperio!_"

Gwyn felt a small, cold chill spill over her as the spell was cast and she bit back a cry. She must have made some small sound, however, because Harry, sitting next to her, glanced at her quickly, concern written on his face.

_ "You okay?"_ he mouthed at her.

_ "Fine,"_ she mouthed back, shaking her head. She wasn't sure what had just happened. All she knew was that she just got this chill the moment that Moody had cast the curse, but she just didn't know what it was.

Focusing her attention on the spider as it began to do gymnastics all over the desk, encouraged by Moody's orders, until it finally stood up on two of its legs and began to tap dance.

Laughter erupted around Gwyn, but she just stared at the spider, forcing the urge to vomit. So that was why the curse was illegal, she thought in horror. It could force anybody to do anything . . . that had to be extremely seductive to Voldemort and his followers, she thought, trembling. No wonder the Ministry had so much trouble with it. If a witch or wizard was under the control of a Death Eater, they could do anything that the Death Eater wanted them to do without even being able to control what they were doing.

"Scores of witches and wizards claimed they only did the Dark Lord's bidding under the influence of the Imperius Curse," Moody said quietly. "So here's the riddle: how to we sort out the liars?" He paused. "The Imperius Curse can be fought and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" His sudden shout caused everyone to jump and he picked up the tap dancing spider, replacing him in the jar. "Anyone else know another one? Another illegal curse?"

Gwyn was surprised when she saw Neville's hand rise into the air. While he was great at Herbology and she wouldn't be at all surprise if he ended up being the Herbology teacher one day, he never usually put himself out in any other class. This was a first.

Moody pointed to him and Neville said faintly, "There's one—the Cruciatus Curse."

For a moment, Moody just looked at him. "Your name's Longbottom?" he asked and Neville nodded.

Reaching back into the jar, Moody removed another spider, placing it on the table. Gwyn could feel her face slowly turning white, scared of what was going to happen to the spider. "The Cruciatus Curse. Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he muttered, pointing his wand. "_Engorgio!_"

The spider began to grow, turning twice its original size, maybe three times, large enough so that the entire class was able to see him, even Lavender and Parvati in the very back.

"_Crucio!_" Moody hissed.

If her face wasn't white by then, Gwyn knew that it was now. Every inch of the spider's body was twitching, writhing in unmistakeable pain and even though it had no voice, Gwyn could've sworn that she heard screaming coming from somewhere.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gwyn saw Neville looking just as horrified as she felt, his hands clenched together so tightly that his knuckles were turning white and his eyes were wide and horrified.

Something about the curse affected him directly, Gwyn realised at once, something that she, nor anybody else, could begin to imagine.

"Stop it!" she whispered, her voice shaking, but she couldn't get her voice to work properly, couldn't speak any louder, but thankfully Hermione had seen Neville too.

"Stop!" she said loudly and fiercely. "Can't you see it's bothering him? Stop it!"

Moody looked up for the first time, his attention turning towards Neville, and he released the spell, allowing the spider to be removed from its torture, turning him back into its original size and returning it to the jar.

"Pain," Moody said softly, yet his words carried to the furthest corners of the room. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. . . . That one was popular at one time, too. Right . . . anyone know of any others?" He nodded at Hermione, whose hand had risen a third and final time, shaking slightly. "Yes?"

Hermione looked very shaky as she stared back at him, her voice barely able a whisper. "_Avada Kedavra_."

A twisted smile made its way across his already twisted face and Gwyn found herself flinching, closing her eyes and looking away, but even through her closed eyelids, she couldn't block the bright, green light that flashed through the room and when she opened them, looking towards the spider, she found that it was dead.

"The Killing Curse," Moody said calmly, ignoring the reactions of almost all of the students. "Not nice, not pleasant, and there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it and he's sitting in this room."

Gwyn glanced sideways at Harry, who shifted uncomfortably, staring at the blackboard dully as Moody looked very pointedly at him while the rest of the class looked at him.

That was it. That was the spell that had killed Harry's parents . . . that was the spell that had killed her mother . . . even though it hadn't been by the same person, it was still the same spell and it caused chills to go down Gwyn's spine at the mere thought of it. She'd never wanted to see the spell that had taken her mother away, never wanted to see how quickly Aurora Toren's life had been taken.

Ever since she had found out the details of her mother's death last year, Gwyn had been picturing it in her mind, both during her waking and sleeping hours, when her subconscious was vulnerable to the visions and the seer part of her wholly accepted them. It was bad enough just having the visions about them after she found out how exactly her mother had died without having to deal with seeing the spell that had killed her right in front of her, in a classroom. It was almost more than she could take and from the look on Harry's face, he wasn't doing much better than she was.

Gwyn realised after a few minutes that Moody was talking again, so she pulled herself back into the present, trying to maintain her composure and pay attention to what he was saying. _Later, Gwyn, you can think about all of that stuff later. _

"Now, _Avada Kedavra_ is a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it. Now, if there's no counter-curse, then why am I showing you? _Because you've got to know_," he told them with great emphasis. "You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The entire class jumped again at the shout. "Now . . . those three curses: _Avada Kedavra_, Imperius, and Cruciatus, they are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any of them is enough to earn you a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice _constant, never-ceasing vigilance. _Get out your quills, copy this down . . ."

Gwyn did as she was told, writing down what he told them, but her thoughts were drifting, focusing on the spider and how quickly it had died without her will or consent. As much as she wanted to stop thinking about it, she couldn't banish the thoughts. And as she glanced over at Harry, she didn't think that she was the only one who was thinking about it.

Of course, they—along with Hermione and Neville—were probably the only ones who didn't find the lesson entertaining. Gwyn had to keep herself from snapping at a couple of them as they gossiped about it after the class was over, but Neville distracted her when she noticed his expression—which was the same one that he'd worn after the display of the Cruciatus Curse—and she hurried after him as soon as class was over, followed closely by Hermione, who'd grabbed the boys after her.

"Nev?" she asked as he stared at the stone wall opposite. "Nev, are you okay?" He jumped a mile as she gently touched his shoulder, trying not to jar him, but as soon as she touched him, something flashed in her mind and Gwyn saw images in her mind.

She saw a man and a woman that looked remarkably like Neville with four other people—two men, one woman, and a vaguely familiar blond boy who couldn't have been any more than eighteen—and they were screaming. Their howls of anguish and pain resonated in her mind. Gwyn had to clench her teeth together to stop from crying out, to stop the four from hurting the man and woman, beg them to stop. All sense of reality was leaving their eyes, all sense of sanity going out of them like a light, as quickly as a flame is extinguished.

Her hand was suddenly pulled away from Neville and she was yanked into the present with an abrupt jolt.

Lifting her head, she found herself looking at Professor Moody, whose mismatched eyes were looking at her as thought they were looking at a dangerous lunatic. But he didn't say anything, just looked back towards Neville and said, "Come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."

Neville looked terrified at the thought, but had no choice but to be pulled away by Moody, leaving the quartet by themselves.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked as Gwyn felt her stomach turn over.

"I don't know," Hermione said while Harry asked at the exact same time, "Gwyn, what's wrong?"

She pushed past her boyfriend, her hand clamped to her mouth, and she bolted for the bathroom, throwing the door open with massive force and pushing past some first-years as she reached an empty stall just in time, proceeding to throw up with little was in her stomach and then proceeded to throw up painfully nothing before she finally broke down completely, sobs escaping from her as she leaned back against the cool tile, shaking slightly.

After a few minutes, she felt someone touch her shoulder and she looked up to find Harry sitting right next to her, looking extremely concerned. "Are you okay?" he asked as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Well, you don't look okay."

"I thought we agreed you weren't going to be taking any more trips into the girls' bathroom," she reminded him shakily. Harry gave her a look.

"What did you see?"

"I can't tell you," she confessed, feeling guilty at the words, but not nearly as guilty as she would feel if she told him the truth about what she'd seen. "And not because I don't want to—but because what I saw is Neville's past and I'm not about to go spill someone else's secrets, Harry. That's different than telling you about my own. Sharing Neville's secrets with you, it would be like intruding on his privacy and I just can't do that."

Harry considered her, then nodded. "Okay, all right, I get it," he admitted. "It was bad?"

"It was really bad," Gwyn admitted, shaking her head. "It was awful."

"You look awful," Harry agreed, studying her. "I've never seen you get sick from one of your visions before. Pass out before, yes, but never something so bad that you heave by it."

"Yeah, I think they're growing stronger," Gwyn admitted, accepting his help to get to her feet, heading towards the sink to rinse out her mouth. "This time, I saw the past."

Her boyfriend actually looked startled by this confession. "Wait a minute, I thought you could only see the future."

"Not anymore, I guess."

Harry let out a sigh. "Well, let's hope that ever vision isn't going to be like this," he said dryly. Gwyn snorted, shaking her head as she gave him a look. "I guess you don't want to eat dinner, do you?"

"No, I'm just gonna grab some rolls for later and then head to the library, see if I can't do some research on seers," Gwyn replied. "I don't have any homework, so I've got time."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" Harry muttered. "Professor Trelawney gave _us_ loads." Gwyn just grinned at him as he handed over her bag. "Here, you dropped this."

"Thanks," Gwyn said gratefully, accepted it and slinging it across her shoulder. "So . . . do I look presentable?"

"You look beautiful," Harry told her. Gwyn blushed, but swatted him. "A little pale is all. Come on, I should probably get out of here before one of the teachers spots me coming out of here."

Trying very hard not to grin, Gwyn checked the hallways to make sure that they were clear before they left and parted ways, Harry for the dining hall for dinner and Gwyn for the library.

There weren't very many sources for seers—at least, not the way that Gwyn's visions worked. Most of the ones that Gwyn found were just for spewing prophecies every so often and more often than not, they weren't aware that it was happening to them.

Finally, after about an hour of nothing turning up, Gwyn just gave up and reluctantly withdrew for the library—after getting a few books for bedtime reading that Madam Pince suggested—heading up to the dormitory to find the boys were hard at work, pouring over the Divination homework, checking all of their facts, double checking their books, triple checking their resources . . .

Ha. Gwyn was hardly surprised when she found them just making up their predictions for the coming month.

"You two are so predictable," she commented as she pulled up a seat next to Harry, who shrugged as he continued to scribble down horrific scenes, which included but were not limited to losing a bet, getting stabbed in the back, and being decapitated. "Have you seen Hermione? She wasn't in the library and I was expecting her to show up."

"She wasn't in the library?" Ron asked, dropping his quill in surprise.

"Nope," Gwyn replied just as the portrait opened and in walked Hermione, as though just talking about her had called her, carrying parchment and quill in one hand and a box in the other. "'Mione, over here! Where have you been?" she asked, eyeing the box carefully, suspiciously.

"I was in one of the empty classrooms, doing some work," Hermione answered as she pulled Ron's predictions towards her. "Not going to have a very good month, are you?"

"At least I'm forewarned," Ron returned.

"You seem to be drowning twice."

"Am I? I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."

"Don't you think that it's a bit obvious that you've made these up?" Hermione inquired.

"How dare you?" Ron said, feigning outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here! It's just an expression," he added quickly.

"What's in there?" Gwyn said quickly, nodding to the box.

"Funny you should ask," Hermione said, giving Ron a particularly nasty look before pulling open the box, revealing its contents to be full of badges, all different colours, but all bearing the same four letters.

"Spew?" Harry asked, examining one. "What's this about?"

"Not 'spew'," Hermione said with a hint of annoyance. "It's S-P-E-W and it stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Let me guess, you just started it?" Gwyn said with a smile at her. "It's a great idea."

Hermione beamed while Ron rolled his eyes. "Here we go . . ."

"Thanks," Hermione said, ignoring Ron. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status on the badges, but it wouldn't fit, so that's the heading of our manifesto. You won't believe how far back elf enslavement goes. I can't believe that no one's done anything about it before now."

"Girls, open your ears," Ron said loudly. "They. Like. It. They _like_ being enslaved."

"Because they've never had a glimpse of freedom," Gwyn pointed out, not unkindly. "They've never been able to think for themselves, Ron. They've been taught that slaves is all they are, so that's what they believe. Now, I'm sure that there are kinder masters there than others, but I think that if we don't do anything to help them, then we'll be worse off in the long run."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because it's not just house elves that are restricted their freedom," Gwyn pointed out placidly. "It's giants, centaurs, werewolves and a whole lot of other creatures that have their lives disrupted because of Ministry law. And a lot of them would go dark side if Voldemort ever came back." She ignored Ron's flinch. "Because he would offer them the freedom that we won't give them. And when that happens, I can't honestly say that I would blame them, considering how bad the Ministry treats them." She stood up. "I'm going to bed."

Harry caught her hand before she could go, pulling her towards him and kissed her tenderly. "Nice speech," he said, impressed.

"I liked it, too," Hermione agreed. "Maybe you should give that speech in Hogsmeade, get more people to join."

"Oh, no," Gwyn said, shaking her head. "I have a strict policy about speaking in public." Harry and Hermione laughed as she disentangled herself from Harry and headed up to bed.


	14. Start of the Tournament

**Gwyn Swann and the Goblet of Fire**

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Fourteen: Start of the Tournament

Just as always, Gwyn settled back into life at the castle with no trouble, feeling already at home by the time that she had stepped into the front doors, adjusting to the classes—even though they were much harder this year than usual, much to Gwyn's surprise—and life with her friends. Already, the gossip about her and Harry had dwindled down so that she was only approached with questions about _once_ a day instead of fifty times a day as it had been the first day back.

As promised, Gwyn had been tutoring Tristan in Charms for his O.W.L.s—since her skill level in that class was probably already at N.E.W.T. level—and got him caught up to where he was actually caught up with the rest of the class, plus teaching him some charms that would probably help for his test later in the year. He had thanked her practically on bended knee all week, eternally grateful for the help, and swore that all she had to do was name a favour and he would perform it without thinking twice.

Gwyn tried to tell him that it wasn't necessary, that she was more than happy to do it, but Tristan was still grateful to her and he wouldn't let it up until she promised that if she ever needed a favour, just to ask him.

Classes were a lot more difficult than they had been the previous year, with teachers piling on the homework with every lesson, but Defence Against the Dark Arts had been the worst, with Moody acting like they were going to get attacked by Death Eaters at any given moment, bursting in through the front doors and head straight for their Defence class. He had been preparing them with information about the Unforgivable Curses and then, a couple of weeks into the school year, Gwyn entered the classroom to find Moody announcing that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them—just to let them know how it felt and how they reacted.

Gwyn blanched as soon as she heard that; she got cold chills just be seeing it performed; she wasn't sure that she wanted to know what it felt like—or even what her reaction would be to it.

But rather than argue with Moody, Gwyn just lined up next to the rest of her classmates, waiting anxiously as each of them were called forward to be put underneath the effects of the Imperius Curse. Hermione had protested that the curse was illegal, so Moody sent her away, much to her disappointment. Even though that it was against the law to perform upon another human, that didn't mean that Hermione wanted to leave the class, which was probably why she was sulking later.

No one in the class was able to throw off the curse until Harry was called to the front of the room. She held her breath, watching him as Moody directed him to jump onto the desk. His face was completely relaxed and peaceful, completely and utterly calm and happy, like she'd never seen him before.

But something flickered behind his eyes as he bent his knees, preparing himself to spring, something that she hadn't seen in anyone else yet, something that caused him to hesitate.

_He's fighting it,_ Gwyn realised a split-second later. _Come on, Harry, you can do it. Fight it off!_

It came pretty close; he tried to stop himself from jumping, but he also tried to jump at the same time, resulting in him smashing into the desk head-on. A few people around them winced while everyone else looked very confused at what had just happened. Gwyn hurried forward to help her boyfriend up, who shook his head as the Imperius Curse was pulled off of him.

"Now _that's_ more like it!" Moody exclaimed, looking very pleased. "Look at that, you lot . . . Potter fought! He fought it and he almost beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch his eyes, that's where you'll see it—very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling _you_!"

"Just concentrate on the voice," Gwyn whispered, though she wasn't really sure what that meant. By the look that he gave her, though, Gwyn was sure that Harry did. He nodded, letting go of her hand and stepping back, allowing Moody to put the curse back on him.

It took a couple more times, but Harry—eventually—was able to throw off the curse entirely, though Moody insisted on him jumping on the desk, which meant that he kept crashing into it and that meant that he was having trouble walking later on.

After Harry was able to throw off the curse, Gwyn was next. She bit her lip nervously as she stared at Moody, an uneasy feeling going through her stomach, a hint of foreboding surging through her body. Every inch of her was screaming, warning her that something was going to go very wrong with, to get out of the way before the curse hit.

She should have listened; Gwyn knew better than to not trust her instincts after three years of knowing she was a seer.

Instead of the blissful, happy feeling that Gwyn had seen on all of her classmates' faces as soon as the effects were underway, Gwyn felt something entirely different swift through her, banishing the uneasiness, but not creating the happiness that should have been underway.

Pain erupted inside of her mind, feeling as though needles were piercing her skull. Every inch of it was howling in anguish and Gwyn gasped aloud at the unexpected pain, stumbling backwards and crashing into one of the desks behind her.

A hiss escaped through her gritted teeth as Gwyn gripped her blonde hair tightly, trying to force the pain away from her. "Get out!" she whispered, her eyes narrowed to slits, tears of pain smearing her vision. "GET OUT!"

With enormous force, she _shoved_ the intruder out of her mind, flinging him away from her mind and the pain disappeared completely before she heard a crash.

Looking up, she saw Moody was several feet away from where he had been when he had cast the curse and was supporting himself by one of the desks, which he had been flung into when Gwyn had banished the intruder from her mind. It took her a split second to realise that, somehow, _she_ had flung him halfway across the room.

Exclamations erupted all around them and Gwyn suddenly felt Harry pulling her up, looking at her anxiously. "Are you okay?" he asked as a couple other students were helping Professor Moody up.

She nodded, though she was sure that she was white as a sheet. Her hands were shaking, though. "I'm fine," she assured him, though she didn't let go of him, not trusting herself to support her own weight.

What had just happened? Gwyn thought in panic, bewildered and very shaken. The Imperius Curse wasn't supposed to cause pain; it was for controlling people . . . they had the Cruciatus for torturing people . . . so why did it affect her like that?

Ron asked the same thing later, but she didn't have any more clue than her friends did. Apparently, Moody had told her to dance, not to act like she was being tortured, which was what had happened. It took until lunch for the after-effects to wear off.

But Hermione, of course, had the answer.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" she said impatiently as they filled her in on the information of what she had missed after she'd been dismissed from class. "Gwyn is a seer. Her brain functions on a different level than most people and sees a lot more than everyone else does. It's not that surprising that she wouldn't be affected by the Imperius Curse—or at least, you wouldn't be able to be controlled by it," she added when Gwyn opened her mouth to speak. "I would guess that you felt Moody trying to invade your mind because that's exactly what the Imperius Curse _does_. And you were able to throw him out of your mind because you knew that he was there; you were able to fight him off more quickly because you didn't have to fight the effects of the curse as well."

"So is it going to be like this every time that someone tries to use the Imperius on me?" Gwyn asked, not looking forward to that. The mere thought of those needles piercing her skull made her head throb.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, but I'm guessing that you'll be able to learn how to shield yourself. This was the first time that you came into contact with it. The more times you fight it, the easier it gets, I would think."

"Let's hope so," Harry muttered as Hermione scooped up some books and began to work on her Ancient Runes homework. He shook his head, green eyes worried. "I almost had a heart attack when you dropped like that. You scared me, Gwyn."

"Now you know how I feel every time that you rush off to save the day, Harry Potter," she said, half-teasing as she pulled her Transfiguration notes out of her bag. "Come on, we'd better get started on our homework or else we'll never get done."

All of their classes had been increasing in the homework ever since the start of term, which McGonagall explained was because they needed the preparation for their O.W.L.s next year. Between the increased homework and the cemetery dreams that still plague her nightmares, it was a wonder that Gwyn got any sleep at all.

Still, it wasn't like they were going to have a particularly boring year, not with the Triwizard Tournament coming up; Gwyn wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. Sure, it was bound to be exciting, but she was also worried about the "death toll" that Dumbledore had mentioned when he had explained what the Tournament entailed.

At the end of October, they were heading into the castle after Care of the Magical Creatures to find that there was an enormous crowd around the foot of the staircase, looking at a huge sign. Since none of them could get close enough to read it, Ron, who towered over all three of them, stood on his tiptoes so he could read it aloud.

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT SIX O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END A HALF AN HOUR EARLY. STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

Over the next few days, the only thing that seemed to be on everybody's minds was the Tournament, which Gwyn had sort of mixed feelings about. Sure, she would love to watch it; it was bound to be exciting, but she also had a weird feeling about it, like something bad was going to happen. It made her uneasy, but since she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was, she kept her mouth shut about it.

All of the staff seemed to be thinking only of the Tournament, too. The castle was being thoroughly cleaned, as to impress their foreign guests, and Mr. Filch, the caretaker, lost his temper whenever anybody tracked in mud or messed up something in the castle. Gwyn had to comfort a couple first-years after they'd be scared out of their wits by him.

Soon enough, the thirtieth of October arrived and there was a feeling of anticipation and excitement hovering around the castle. Gwyn had a hard time concentrating on her lessons that day, too preoccupied with that evening, when the visitors were scheduled to arrive.

It felt like forever before they finally headed down to the Great Hall to wait patiently to greet their guests.

Okay . . . it was more like impatiently, after they'd been standing there for about an hour without any sign of them and the decreased temperatures starting to make them shiver.

Dusk had already fallen over them when Dumbledore called out, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" Everyone looked wildly around, searching the forest, the skies, everywhere and anywhere to spot the guests.

"There!" Gwyn yelled, pointing towards the forest, where something very large was making its way towards them. She couldn't quite make out what it was . . .

"It's a dragon!" a first year screamed.

"Don't be stupid," Dennis Creevey corrected her. "It's a flying house!"

He wasn't actually far off, Gwyn reasoned as the thing came closer and closer, finally revealing itself to be an enormous light blue carriage with drawn by a dozen enormous horses, roughly the size of an elephant.

The reason for the enormity of the carriage became evident almost immediately as it landed right in front of them and one of the students jumped out to unfold a golden set of steps before stepping back respectfully. A woman descended from the carriage—the largest woman that Gwyn had ever seen before in her life. She was even bigger than Hagrid was and he was the largest person she'd ever seen before.

Everyone around Gwyn seemed to be taken aback by the abnormal size of the woman, too, for all of them were staring at her as Dumbledore began to clap in welcome. Taking his cue, the Hogwarts students broke into applause.

"My dear Madame Maxime," Dumbledore greeted her, kissed her hand as she extended it, though he barely had to bend forward due to her height, even though Dumbledore was by no means short. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime said in a thick, French accent. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils," Madame Maxime said, gesturing towards the students that had gathered up behind her, all of them clad in light blue robes seemingly made of fine silk. A few of them were shivering, Gwyn noted as they looked up at Hogwarts apprehensively. "'As Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment," Dumbledore informed her. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think. But ze 'horses—"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore assured her, "the moment that he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other—er—charges."

"Skrewts," Ron mumbled, receiving a glare from both Hermione and Gwyn, but he and Harry still grinned.

"Boys," Gwyn muttered, shaking her head. Hermione bit back a smile, returning her attention to Dumbledore and Maxime as the latter made her way into the castle, after giving the headmaster specific instructions about taking care of the horses.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus wanted to know, looking around at them.

"If they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," Harry said doubtfully. "That is if he hasn't been attacked by the skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," Ron said hopefully.

"No," Gwyn said without thinking. "They've just gotten so big that they're trying to kill each other." She received a few odd looks from the students who'd overheard her and she blushed, exchanging a look with Harry, who just grinned at her.

"Can you hear something?" Ron asked suddenly. Gwyn strained her ears, listening closely. There was a slight rumbling noise coming from somewhere very close.

"The _lake_!" Lee Jordon shouted. "Look at the lake!"

Gwyn's head snapped over to where he had indicated, staring across the lake, where bubbles had begun to emerge from the very centre, creating waves that pulsed towards the edge as a whirlpool began to appear and something began to appear . . . a long pole . . .

"It's a mast!" Harry exclaimed as the rigging appeared.

Sure enough, a ship began making its way above the surface, breaking through the water and moving towards the bank. Gwyn could just barely make out people aboard, working to dock the ship. An anchor was thrown aside and a plank was pushed so that they could climb down to land.

One by one, they began to climb up. Upon first glance, Gwyn thought that they were all fairly large, but as they moved closer, she realized that all of them wore bulky cloaks, made of fur.

As soon as she laid eyes on the man who was leading them, Gwyn immediately disliked him. She couldn't put her finger on what it was exactly, but she knew he couldn't be trusted.

"Dumbledore," he greeted. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore said, smiling.

Karkaroff looked up at the castle reminiscently. "Dear old Hogwarts," he said with a smile that didn't quite suit him. "How good it is to be here . . . how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold . . ."

Beckoning to one of his students, Karkaroff led him into the castle. The boy was seventeen or so, with a curved nose and thick, black eyebrows Gwyn blinked, recognizing him at once.

"Blimey, it's him!" Ron whispered excitedly as they made their way into the castle. "Viktor Krum!"


End file.
